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i^MILE: 


OR,   CONCERNING   EDUCATION 


BT 


JEAN  JACQUES  EOUSSEAD 


EXTRACTS 

VONTAININQ    THE    PRINCIPAL    ELEMENTS    OF   PEDAQOQJt 

FOUND   IN   THE   FIRST   THREE   BOOKS;    WITH  AN 

INTRODUCTION  AND  NOTES  BY 


JULES  STEEG,  D^put^,  Paeis,  Franob 

TRANSLATED  BY 

ELEANOR  WORTHINGTON 

FOBMEBLY  07  THB  COOK  OOUITTT  (iLL.)  NORMAL  SCHOOL 


•  >>>•*• 

o      »  > 


D.  C.  HEATH  &  CO.,  PUBLISHERS 

BOSTON  NEW  YORK  CHICAGO 


CJ7 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1896,  by 

GINN,  HEATH,  &  CO., 
in  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington 


2e5 

REPLACING 


*  4 
••  • 
••     •    I. 


I    •,- 


•  ♦••••    •  • 


•  •  • 


Printed  in  U.  S.  A. 


TRANSLATOR'S  PREFACEe 


"\  yl"  JULES  STEEGr  has  rendered  a  real  service  to 
-LY-L.  French  and  American  teachers  by  his  judicious 
selections  from  Rousseau's  Emile.  For  the  three- volume 
novel  of  a  hundred  years  ago,  with  its  long  disquisitions  and 
digressions,  so  dear  to  the  heart  of  our  patient  ancestors, 
is  now  distasteful  to  all  but  lovers  of  the  curious  in  books. 

' '  ]lSmile  "  is  like  an  antique  mirror  of  brass  ;  it  reflects  the 
features  of  educational  humanity  no  less  faithfully  than  one 
of  more  modern  construction.  In  these  few  pages  will  be 
found  the  germ  of  all  that  is  useful  in  present  systems  of 
education,  as  well  as  most  of  the  ever-recurring  mistakes  of 
well-meaning  zealots. 

The  eighteenth  century  translations  of  this  wonderful 
book  have  for  many  readers  the  disadvantage  of  an  Eng- 
lish  style  long  disused.  It  is  hoped  that  this  attempt  at  a 
new  translation  may,  with  all  its  defects,  have  the  one 
merit  of  being  in  the  dialect  of  the  nineteenth  century,  and 
may  thus  reach  a  wider  circle  of  readers. 


INTRODUCTION. 


JEAN  JACQUES  ROUSSEAU'S  book  on  education  has  had  a 
powerful  influence  throughout  Europe,  and  even  in  the  New 
World.  It  was  in  its  day  a  kind  of  gospel.  It  had  its  share  in 
bringing  about  the  Revolution  which  renovated  the  entire  aspect 
of  our  country.  Many  of  the  reforms  so  lauded  by  it  have  since 
then  been  carried  into  effect,  and  at  this  day  seem  every-day 
affairs.  In  the  eighteenth  century  they  were  unheard-of  daring; 
they  were  mere  dreams. 

Long  before  that  time  the  immortal  satirist  Rabelais,  and,  after 
him,  Michael  Montaigne,  had  already  divined  the  truth,  had 
pointed  out  serious  defects  in  education,  and  the  way  to  reform. 
No  one  followed  out  their  suggestions,  or  even  gave  them  a 
hearing.  Routine  went  on  its  way.  Exercises  of  memory, — the 
science  that  consists  of  mere  words,  —  pedantry,  barren  and  vain- 
glorious,— held  fast  their  "bad  eminence."  The  child  was  treated 
as  a  machine,  or  as  a  man  in  miniature,  no  account  being  taken 
of  his  nature  or  of  his  real  needs;  without  any  greater  solici- 
tude about  reasonable  method  —  the  hygiene  of  mind  —  than 
about  the  hygiene  of  the  body. 

Rousseau,  who  had  educated  himself,  and  very  badly  at  that, 
was  impressed  with  the  dangers  of  the  education  of  his  day.  A 
mother  having  asked  his  advice,  he  took  up  the  pen  to  write  it; 
and,  little  by  little,  his  counsels  grew  into  a  book,  a  large  work, 
a  pedagogic  romance. 


// 


2  INTRODUCTION. 

^This  romance,  when  it  appeared  in  1762,  created  a  great  noise 
and  a  great  scandal.  The  Archbishop  of  Paris,  Christophe  de 
Beaumont,  saw  in  it  a  dangerous,  mischievous  work,  and  gave 
himself  the  trouble  of  writing  a  long  encyclical  letter  in  order 
to  point  out  the  book  to  the  reprobation  of  the  faithful.  This 
document  of  twenty-seven  chapters  is  a  formal  refutation  of  the 
theories  advanced  in  "Emile." 

The  archbishop  declares  that  the  plan  of  education  proposed 

by  the  author,  "far  from  being  in  accordance  with  Christianity, 

r-  is  not  fitted  to  form  citizens,  or  even  men."     He  accuses  Rous- 

L    seau  of  irreligion  and  of  bad  faith ;  he  denounces  him  to  the 

I     temporal    power    as    animated  "by  a  spirit  of  insubordination 

.1     and  of  revolt."    He  sums  up  by  solemnly  condemning  the  book 

"as  containing  an  abominable  doctrine,  calculated  to  overthrow 

natural  law,   and  to  destroy  the  foundations  of   the  Christian 

religion;  establishing  maxims  contrary  to  Gospel  morality;  hav- 

'  \  ing  a  tendency  to  disturb  the  peace  of  empires,  to  stir  up  sub- 

I  ^'  jects   to  revolt   against  their  sovereign ;    as   containing  a  great 

\     number  of  propositions  respectively  false,  scandalous,  full  of  ha- 

^    tred  toward  the  Church  and  its  ministers,  derogating  from  the 

respect  due  to  Holy  Scripture  and  the  traditions  of  the  Church, 

erroneous,  impious,  blasphemous,  and  heretical." 

In  those  days,  such  a  condemnation  was  a  serious  matter;  its 
consequences  to  an  author  might  be  terrible.  Rousseau  had 
barely  time  to  flee.  His  arrest  was  decreed  by  the  parliament 
of  Paris,  and  his  book  was  burned  by  the  executioner.  A  few 
years  before  this,  the  author  would  have  run  the  risk  of  being 
burned  with  his  book. 

As  a  fugitive,  Rousseau  did  not  find  a  safe  retreat  even  in 
his  own  country.  He  was  obliged  to  leave  Greneva,  where  his 
book  was   also   condemned,   and   Berne,   where   he   had   sought 


INTEODUCTION.  3 

refuge,  but  whence  he  was  driven  by  intolerance.  He  owed  it 
to  the  protection  of  Lord  Keith,  governor  of  Neufchitel,  a 
principality  belonging  to  the  King  of  Prussia,  that  he  lived  for 
some  time  in  peace  in  the  little  town  of  Motiers  in  the  Val  de 
Travers. 

It  was  from  this  place  that  he  replied  to  the  archbishop  of 
Paris  by  an  apology,  a  long-winded  work  in  which  he  repels, 
one  after  another,  the  imputations  of  his  accuser,  and  sets  forth 
anew  with  greater  urgency  his  philosophical  and  religious  prin- 
ciples. This  work,  written  on  a  rather  confused  plan  but  with 
impassioned  eloquence,  manifests  a  lofty  and  sincere  spirit.  It 
is  said  that  the  archbishop  was  deeply  touched  by  it,  and  never 
afterward  spoke  of  the  author  of  "Emile"  without  extreme 
reserve,  sometimes  even  eulogizing  his  character  and  his  virtues. 

The  renown  of  the  book,  condemned  by  so  high  an  authority, 
was  immense.  Scandal,  by  attracting  public  attention  to  it, 
did  it  good  service.  What  was  most  serious  and  most  sugges- 
tive in  it  was  not,  perhaps,  seized  upon;  but  the  "craze"  of 
which  it  was  the  object  had,  notwithstanding,  good  results. 
Mothers  were  won  over,  and  resolved  to  nurse  their  own  infants; 
great  lords  began  to  learn  handicrafts,  like  Rousseau's  imagi- 
nary pupil;  physical  exercises  came  into  fashion;  the  spirit  of 
innovation  was  forcing  itself  a  way. 

It  was  not  among  ourselves,  however,  that  the  theories  of 
Rousseau  were  most  eagerly  experimented  upon;  it  was  among 
foreigners,  in  Germany,  in  Switzerland,  that  they  found  more 
resolute  partisans,  and  a  field  more  ready  to  receive  them. 

Three  men  above  aU  the  rest  are  noted  for  having  popularized 
the  pedagogic  method  of  Rousseau,  and  for  having  been  inspired 
in  their  labors  by  "Emile."  These  were  Basedow,  Pestalozzi, 
and  Froebel. 


4  INTBODUCTION. 

Basedow,  a  German  theologian,  had  devoted  himself  entirely 
to  dogmatic  controversy,  until  the  reading  of  "Emile"  had  the 
effect  of  enlarging  his  mental  horizon,  and  of  revealing  to  him 
his  true  vocation.  He  wrote  important  books  to  show  how 
Rousseau's  method  could  be  applied  in  different  departments  of 
instruction,  and  founded  at  Dessau,  in  1774,  an  institution  to 
bring  that  method  within  the  domain  of  experience. 

This  institution,  to  which  he  gave  the  name  of  "Philanthro- 
pinum,"  was  secular  in  the  true  sense  of  the  word;  and  at  that 
time  this  was  in  itself  a  novelty.  It  was  open  to  pupils  of 
every  belief  and  every  nationality,  and  proposed  to  render  study 
easy,  pleasant,  and  expeditious  to  them,  by  following  the  direc- 
tions of  nature  itself.  In  the  first  rank  of  his  disciples  may 
be  placed  Campe,  who  succeeded  him  in  the  management  of  the 
Philanthropinum. 

Pestalozzi  of  Ziirich,  one  of  the  foremost  educators  of  modern 
times,  also  found  his  whole  life  transformed  by  the  reading  of 
"Emile,"  which  awoke  in  him  the  genius  of  a  reformer.  He 
himself  also,  in  1775,  founded  a  school,  in  order  to  put  in 
practice  there  his  progressive  and  professional  method  of  teach- 
ing, which  was  a  fruitful  development  of  seeds  sown  by  Rous- 
seau in  his  book.  Pestalozzi  left  numerous  writings, — romances, 
treatises,  reviews,  —  all  having  for  sole  object  the  popularization 
of  his  ideas  and  processes  of  education.  The  most  distin- 
guished  among  his  disciples  and  continuators  is  Froebel,  the 
founder  of  those  primary  schools  or  asylums  known  by  the 
name  of  "kindergartens,"  and  the  author  of  highly  esteemed 
pedagogic  works. 
\  These  various  attempts,  these  new  and  ingenious  processes 
which,  step  by  step,  have  made  their  way  among  us,  and  are 
beginning  to  make  their  workings  felt,  even  in  institutions  most 


INTRODUCTION.  5 

stoutly  opposed    to    progress,   are    all   traceable    to    Rousseau's 
"Emile." 

It  is  therefore  not  too  much  for  Frenchmen,  for  teachers, 
for  parents,  for  every  one  in  our  country  who  is  interested  in 
what  concerns  teaching,  to  go  back  to  the  source  of  so  great  a 
movement. 

/  It  is  true  that  "Emile"  contains  pages  that  have  outlived 
their  day,  many  odd  precepts,  many  false  ideas,  many  disputable 
and  destructive  theories ;  but  at  the  same  time  we  find  in  it  so 
many  sagacious  observations,  such  upright  counsels,  suitable 
even  to  modern  times,  so  lofty  an  ideal,  that,  in  spite  of  every- 
thing, we  cannot  read  and  study  it  without  profit.  There  is  no 
one  who  does  not  know  the  book  by  name  and  by  reputation; 
but  how  many  parents,  and  even  teachers,  have  never  read  it! 

This  is  because  a  large  part  of  the  book  is  no  longer  in 
accordance  with  the  actual  condition  of  things;  because  its  very 
plan,  its  fundamental  idea,  are  outside  of  the  truth.  We  are 
obliged  to  exercise  judgment,  to  make  selections.  Some  of  it 
must  be  taken,  some  left  untouched.  This  is  what  we  have 
done  in  the  present  edition. 

We  have  not,  indeed,  the  presumption  to  correct  Rousseau,  or 
to  substitute  an  expurgated  "Emile"  for  the  authentic  "Emile." 
We  have  simply  wished  to  draw  the  attention  of  the  teachers 
of  childhood  to  those  pages  of  this  book  which  have  least  grown 
old,  which  can  still  be  of  service,  can  hasten  the  downfall  of  the 
old  systems,  can  emphasize,  by  their  energy  and  beauty  of  lan- 
guage, methods  already  inaugurated  and  reforms  already  under- 
taken. These  methods  and  reforms  cannot  be  too  often  recom- 
mended and  set  in  a  clear  light.  We  have  desired  to  call  to 
the  rescue  this  powerful  and  impassioned  writer,  who  brings  to 
bear  upon  every  subject  he  approaches  the  magical  attractiveness 
of  his  style. 


O  INTRODUCTION. 

There  is  absolutely,  nothing  practicable  in  his  system.  It  con- 
sists in  isolating  a  child  from  the  rest  of  the  world;  in  creating 
expressly  for  him  a  tutor,  who  is  a  phoenix  among  his  kind; 
in  depriving  him  of  father,  mother,  brothers,  and  sisters,  his 
companions  in  study ;  in  surrounding  him  with  a  perpetual  char- 
latanism, under  the  pretext  of  following  nature;  and  in  showing 
him  only  through  the  veil  of  a  factitious  atmosphere  the  society 
in  which  he  is  to  live.  And,  nevertheless,  at  each  step  it  is 
sound  reason  by  which  we  are  met ;  by  an  astonishing  paradox, 
this  whimsicality  is  full  of  good  sense;  this  dream  overflows 
with  realities;  this  improbable  and  chimerical  romance  contains 
the  substance  and  the  marrow  of  a  rational  and  truly  modem 
treatise  on  pedagogy.  Sometimes  we  must  read  between  the 
lines,  add  what  experience  has  taught  us  since  that  day,  trans- 
pose into  an  atmosphere  of  open  democracy  these  pages,  written 
under  the  old  order  of  things,  but  even  then  quivering  with  the 
new  world  which  they  were  bringing  to  light,  and  for  which 
they  prepared  the  way. 

Reading  "Emile"  in  the  light  of  modern  prejudices,  we  can 
see  in  it  more  than  the  author  wittingly  put  into  it;  but  not 
more  than  logic  and  the  instinct  of  genius  set  down  there. 

To  unfold  the  powers  of  children  in  due  proportion  to  their 
age;  not  to  transcend  their  ability;  to  arouse  in  them  the  sense 
of  the  observer  and  of  the  pioneer;  to  make  them  discoverers 
rather  than  imitators;  to  teach  them  accountability  to  them- 
selves and  not  slavish  dependence  upon  the  words  of  others ;  to 
address  ourselves  more  to  the  will  than  to  custom,  to  the  reason 
rather  than  to  the  memory;  to  substitute  for  verbal  recitations 
lessons  about  things ;  to  lead  to  theory  by  way  of  art ;  to  assign 
to  physical  movements  and  exercises  a  prominent  place,  from 
the  earliest  hours  of  life  up  to  perfect  maturity;   such  are  the 


INTEODUCTION.  7 

principles  scattered  broadcast  in  this  book,  and  forming  a  happy 
counterpoise  to  the  oddities  of  which  Rousseau  was  perhaps  most 
proud. 

He  takes  the  child  in  its  cradle,  almost  before  its  birth;  he 
desires  that  mothers  should  fulfil  the  sacred  duty  of  nursing 
them  at  the  breast.  If  there  must  be  a  nurse,  he  knows  how 
to  choose  her,  how  she  ought  to  be  treated,  how  she  should  be 
fed.  He  watches  over  the  movements  of  the  new-bom  child, 
over  its  first  playthings.  All  these  counsels  bear  the  stamp  of 
good  sense  and  of  experience;  or,  rather,  they  result  from  a 
power  of  divination  singular  enough  in  a  man  who  was  not 
willing  to  take  care  of  his  own  children.  In  this  way,  day 
by  day,  he  follows  up  the  physical  and  moral  development  of 
the  little  being,  all  whose  ideas  and  feelings  he  analyzes,  whom 
he  guides  with  wisdom  and  with  tact  throughout  the  mazes  of 
a  life  made  up  of  convention  and  artifice. 

We  have  carefully  avoided  suppressing  the  fictions  of  the 
gardener  and  of  the  mountebank;  because  they  are  characteristic 
of  his  manner,  and  because,  after  all,  these  pre-arranged  scenes 
which,  as  they  stand,  are  anything  in  the  world  rather  than 
real  teaching,  contain,  nevertheless,  right  notions,  and  opinions 
which  may  suggest  to  intelligent  teachers  processes  in  prudent 
education.  Such  teachers  wiU  not  copy  the  form;  they  will 
not  imitate  the  awkward  clap-trap;  but,  yielding  to  the  inspiv 
ration  of  the  dominant  idea,  they  will,  in  a  way  more  in 
accordance  with  nature,  manage  to  thrill  with  life  the  teaching 
of  facts,  and  will  aid  the  mind  in  giving  birth  to  its  ideas. 
Th'}"^  iq  ^ihp  vld  m"t^^d  ^^  s^nr>^fn«,  fi^^  ftt-^r^^i^  mf^tiV*^  of 
reason,  the  only  method  which^eally  educates.     _^ 


We  have  brought  this  volume  to  an  end  with  the  third  book 
of  "Emile."      The  fourth  and  fifth  books  which  follow  are  not 


8  INTEODUCTION. 

within  the  domain  of  pedagogy.  They  contain  admirable  pages, 
which  ought  to  be  read ;  which  occupy  one  of  the  foremost 
places  in  our  literature;  which  deal  with  philosophy,  with 
ethics,  with  theology;  but  they  concern  themselves  with  the 
manner  of  directing  young  men  and  women,  and  no  longer 
with  childhood.  The  author  conducts  his  Emile  even  as  far  as 
to  his  betrothal;  he  devotes  an  entire  book  to  the  betrothed 
herself,  Sophie,  and  closes  his  volume  only  after  he  has  united 
them  in  marriage. 

We  will  not  go  so  far.  We  will  leave  Emile  upon  the  con- 
fines of  youth,  at  the  time  when  he  escapes  from  school,  and 
when  he  is  about  beginning  to  feel  that  he  is  a  man.  At  thi& 
difficult  and  critical  period  the  teacher  no  longer  suffices.  Then, 
above  all  things,  is  needed  all  the  influence  of  the  family;  the 
father's  example,  the  mother's  clear-sighted  tenderness,  worthy 
friendships,  an  environment  of  meritorious  people,  of  upright 
minds  animated  by  lofty  ideas,  who  attract  within  their  orbit 
this  ardent  and  inquisitive  being,  eager  for  novelty,  for  action, 
and  for  independence. 

Artifices  and  stratagems  are  then  no  longer  good  for  any- 
thing; they  are  very  soon  laid  open  to  the  light.  All  that 
can  be  required  of  a  teacher  is  that  he  shall  have  furnished 
his  pupils  with  a  sound  and  strong  education,  drawn  from  the 
sources  of  reason,  experience,  and  nature;  that  he  shall  have 
prepared  them  to  learn  to  form  judgments,  to  make  use  of 
their  faculties,  to  enter  valiantly  upon  study  and  upon  life.  It 
seems  to  us  that  the  pages  of  Rousseau  here  published  may  be 
a  useful  guide  in  the  pursuit  of  such  a  result. 

JULES    STEEG. 


Book  Fiest. 


The  first  book,  after  some  general  remarks  upon  education,  treats 
especially  of  early  infancy ;  of  the  first  years  of  life ;  of  the  care  to 
be  bestowed  upon  very  young  children ;  of  the  nursing  of  them ;  of 
the  laws  of  health. 

He  makes  education  begin  at  birth ;  expresses  himself  on  the  sub- 
ject of  the  habits  to  be  given  or  to  be  avoided ;  discusses  the  use  and 
meaning  of  tears,  outcries,  gestures,  also  the  language  that  should 
be  used  with  young  children,  so  that,  from  their  tenderest  years, 
the  inculcating  of  false  ideas  and  the  giving  a  wrong  bent  of  mind 
may  be  avoided. 


GENERAL    REMARKS. 
The  Object  of  Education. 

COMING  from  the  hand  of  the  Author  of  all  things, 
everything  is  good ;  in  the  hands  of  man,  everything 
degenerates.  Man  obliges  one  soil  to  nourish  the  productions 
of  another,  one  tree  to  bear  the  fruits  of  another  ;  he  mingles 
and  confounds  climates,  elements,  seasons  ;  he  mutilates  his 
dog,  his  horse,  his  slave.  He  overturns  everything,  disfig- 
ures everything ;  he  loves  deformity,  monsters ;  he  desires 
that  nothing  should  be  as  nature  made  it,  not  even  man  him- 
self. To  please  him,  man  must  be  broken  in  like  a  horse ; 
man  must  be  adapted  to  man's  own  fashion,  like  a  tree  in 
his  garden.^ 

1  It  is  useless  to  enlarge  upon  the  absurdity  of  this  theory,  and  upon  the 
flagrant  contradiction  into  which  Rousseau  aUows  himself  to  fall.    If  he  is 


12  " "      CONCEBNING  EDUCATION. 

Were  it  not  for  all  this,  matters  would  be  still  worse.  No 
one  wishes  to  be  a  half-developed  being ;  and  in  the  present 
condition  of  things,  a  man  left  to  himself  among  others  from 
his  birth  would  be  the  most  deformed  among  them  all. 
Prejudices,  authority,  necessities,  example,  all  the  social 
institutions  in  which  we  are  submerged,  would  stifle  nature 
in  him,  and  would  put  nothing  in  its  place.  In  such  a  man 
nature  would  be  like  a  shrub  sprung  up  by  chance  in  the 
midst  of  a  highway,  and  jostled  from  all  sides,  bent  in  every 
direction,  by  the  passers-by. 

Plants  are  improved  by  cultivation,  and  men  by  education. 
If  man  were  born  large  and  strong,  his  size  and  strength 
would  be  useless  to  him  until  he  had  learned  to  use  them. 
They  would  be  prejudicial  to  him,  by  preventing  others  from 
thinking  of  assisting  him  ;  and  left  to  himself  he  would  die  of 
wretchedness  before  he  had  known  his  own  necessities.  We 
pity  the  state  of  infancy ;  we  do  not  perceive  that  the  human 
race  would  have  perished  if  man  had  not  begun  by  being  a 
child. 

We  are  bom  weak,  we  need  strength ;  we  are  born  desti- 
tute of  all  things,  we  need  assistance ;  we  are  born  stupid, 
we  need  judgment.  All  that  we  have  not  at  our  birth,  and 
that  we  need  when  grown  up,  is  given  us  by  education. 

This  education  comes  to  us  from  nature  itself,  or  from 
other  men,  or  from  circumstances.  The  internal  develop- 
ment of  our  faculties  and  of  our  organs  is  the  ednAAHnn 
natura^iaBS  us  ;  ^h/u§ewe^e  ta-ligl>^  ^^  make  of  this^-devel-) 
opment  is  the  educS^n  we  gat  f  rom -oth^r- men^  and  what 
wejeaurnj_by  pur  own.  experience,  about  things  that  interest 
us,  is  the  education  of  circumstances. 

right,  man  ought  tobe left  without  education,  and  the  earth  'without  culti* 
ration.  This  would  not  be  even  the  savage  state.  But  want  of  space  forbids 
us  to  pause  at  each  like  statement  of  our  author,  who  at  once  busies  himseli 
in  nullifying  it. 


THE  OBJECT   OF   EDUCATION.  13 

Each  of  us  is  therefore  formed  by  three  kinds  of  teachers. 
The  pupil  in  whom  their  different  lessons  contradict  one 
another  is  badly  educated,  and  will  never  be  in  harmony  with 
himself;  the  one  in  whom  they  all  touch  upon  the  same 
points  and  tend  toward  the  same  object  advances  toward 
that  goal  only,  and  lives  accordingly.  He  alone  is  well  edu- 
cated. 

Now  of  these  three  different  educations,  that  of  nature  does 
not  depend  upon  us  ;  that  of  circumstances  depends  upon  us 
only  in  certain  respects ;  that  of  men  is  the  only  one  of 
which  we  are  really  masters,  and  that  solely  because  we 
think  we  are.  For  who  can  hope  to  direct  entirely  the  speech 
and  conduct  of  all  who  surround  a  child  ? 

As  soon,  therefore,  as  education  becomes  an  art,  its  suc- 
cess is  almost  impossible,  since  the  agreement  of  circum- 
stances necessary  to  this  success  is  independent  of  personal 
effort.  All  that  the  utmost  care  can  do  is  to  approach 
more  or  less  nearly  our  object ;  but,  for  attaining  it,  special 
good  fortune  is  needed. 

What  is  this  object?  That  of  nature  itself,  as  has  just 
been  proved.  Since  the  agreement  of  the  three  educations 
is  necessary  to  their  perfection,  it  is  toward  the  one  for  which 
we  ourselves  can  do  nothing  that  we  must  direct  both  the 
others.  But  perhaps  this  word  "nature**  has  too  vague  a 
meaning  ;  we  must  here  try  to  define  it. 

In  the  natural  order  of  things,  all  men  being  equal,  the 
vocation  common  to  all  is  ttie  state  of  manhood ;  and  who- 
ever is  well  trained  for  that,  cannot  fulfil  badly  any  vocation 
which  depends  upon  it.  Whether  my  pupil  be  destined 
for  the  army,  the  church,  or  the  bar,  matters  little  to  me. 
Before  he  can  think  of  adopting  the  vocation  of  his  parents, 
nature  calls  upon  him  to  be  a  man.  How  to  live  is  the 
business  I  wish  to  teach  him.     On  leaving  my  hands  he  will 


-\ 


If, 


14  CONCERNING  EDUCATION. 

not,  I  admit,  be  a  magistrate,  a  soldier,  or  a  priest ;  first  of 
.  all  he  will  be  a  man.  All  that  a  man  ought  to  be  he  can 
be,  at  need,  as  well  as  any  one  else  can.  Fortune  will  in 
vain  alter  his  position,  for  he  will  always  occupy  his  own. 
jX  Our  real  study  is  that  of  the  state  of  man.  He  among  us 
who  best  knows  how  to  bear  the  good  and  evil  fortunes  of 
this  life  is,  in  my  opinion,  the  best  educated  ;  whence  it  fol- 
lows that  true  education  consists  less  in  precept  than  in  prac- 
tice. We  begin  to  instruct  ourselves  when  we  begin  to  live ; 
our  education  commences  with  the  commencement  of  our 
life  ;  our  first  teacher  is  our  nurse.  For  this  reason  the  word 
*'  education"  had  among  the  ancients  another  meaning  which 
we  no  longer  attach  to  it ;  it  signified  nutriment. 

We  must  then  take  a  broader  view  of  things,  and  consider 
!n  our  pupil  man  in  the  abstract,  man  exposed  to  all  the  acci- 
dents of  human  life.  If  man  were  bom  attached  to  the  soil 
of  a  country,  if  the  same  season  continued  throughout  the 
year,  if  every  one  held  his  fortune  by  such  a  tenure  that  he 
could  never  change  it,  the  established  customs  of  to-day 
would  be  in  certain  respects  good.  The  chUd  educated  for 
his  position,  and  never  leaving  it,  could  not  be  exposed  to  the 
inconveniences  of  another. 

But  seeing  that  human  affairs  are  changeable,  seeing  the 
restless  and  disturbing  spirit  of  this  century,  which  over- 
turns ever^i;hing  once  in  a  generation,  can  a  more  senseless 
method  be  imagined  than  to  educate  a  child  as  if  he  were 
never  to  leave  his  room,  as  if  he  were  obliged  to  be  constantly 
surrounded  by  his  servants  ?  If  the  poor  creature  takes  but 
one  step  on  the  earth,  if  he  comes  down  so  much  as  one  stair, 
he  is  ruined.  This  is  not  teaching  him  to  endure  pain  ;  it  is 
training  him  to  feel  it  more  keenly. 

Wft  think^vnT^nf  preserving  the  child  :  this  is  not  enougL 
We  ought  to  teach  him  to  preserve  himself  when  he  is  a  man ; 


THE   NEW-BORN   CHILD.  15 

to  bear  the  blows  of  fate  ;  to  brave  both  wealth  and  wretched- 
ness ;  to  live,  if  need  be,  among  the  snows  of  Iceland  or  upon 
the  burning  rock  of  Malta.  In  vain  you  take  precautions 
against  his  dying, —  he  must  die  after  all ;  and  if  his  death  be 
not  indeed  the  result  of  those  very  precautions,  they  are  none 
the  less  mistaken.  It  is  less  important  to  keep  him  from 
dying  than  it  is  to  teach  him  how  to  live.  _ To  live  is  not 
"merelylo^lJreatBe,  it  is /Co  actT^It  is  to  make  use  of  our 
organs,  of  our  senses,  of~otiriaculties,  of  all  the  powers 
which  bear  witness  to  us  of  our  own  existence.  He  who  has 
lived  most  is  not  he  who  has  numbered  the  most  years,  but 
he  who  has  been  most  truly  couscious  pfjp^hat  life  i^.  A  man 
may  have  himself  buried  at  the  age  of  a  hundred  years,  who 
died  from  the  hour  of  his  birth.  He  would  have  gained 
something  by  going  to  his  grave  in  youth,  if  up  to  that  time 
he  had  only  lived. 

The  New-born  Child. 

The  new-born  child  needs  to  stretch  and  to  move  his  limbs 
so  as  to  draw  them  out  of  the  torpor  in  which,  rolled  into  a 
ball,  they  have  so  long  remained.  We  do  stretch  his  limbs, 
it  is  true,  but  we  prevent  him  from  moving  them.  We  even 
constrain  his  head  into  a  baby's  cap.  It  seems  as  if  we  were 
afraid  he  might  appear  to  be  alive.  'The  inaction,  the  con- 
straint in  which  we  keep  his  limbs,  cannot  fail  to  interfere 
with  the  circulation  of  the  blood  and  of  the  secretions,  to 
prevent  the  child  from  growing  strong  and  sturdy,  and  to 
change  his  constitution.  In  regions  where  these  extravagant 
precautions  are  not  taken,  the  men  are  all  large,  strong,  and 
well  proportioned.  Countries  in  which  children  are  swaddled 
swarm  with  hunchbacks,  with  cripples,  with  persons  crook- 
kneed,  stunted,  rickety,  deformed  in  all  kinds  of  ways.  For 
fear  that  the  bodies  of  children  may  be  deformed  by  firee 


16  CONCERNING  EDUCATION. 

movements,  we  hasten  to  deform  them  by  putting  them  into 
a  press.  Of  our  own  accord  we  cripple  them  to  prevent 
tiieir  laming^themselves. 

'  Must  not  such  a  cruel  constraint  have  an_ influence  upon 
their  temper  as  well  as  upon  their  constitution  ?  Their  first 
feeling  is  a  feeling  of  constraint  and  of  suffering.  To  all 
their  necessary  movements  they  find  onty  obstacles.  More  un- 
fortunate than  chained  criminals,  the}'  make  fruitless  efforts, 
they  fret  themselves,  they  cry.  Do  you  tell  me  that  the  first 
sounds  they  make  are  cries  ?  I  can  well  believe  it ;  you 
thwart  them  from  the  time  they  are  born.  The  first  gifts 
they  receive  from  you  are  chains,  the  first  treatment  they 
undergo  is  torment.     Having  nothing  free  but  the  voice,  why 

iiould  they  not  use  it  in  complaints  ?  They  cry  on  account 
of  the  suffering  you  cause  them ;  if  you  were  pinioned  in  the 
same  way,  your  own  cries  would  be  louder. 
{  Whence  arises  this  unreasonable  custom  of  swaddling  chil- 
dren? From  an  unnatural  custom.  Since  the  time  when 
mothers,  despising  their  first  duty,  no  longer  wish  to  nurse 
their  own  children  at  the  breast,  it  has  been  necessary  to  in- 
trust the  little  ones  to  hired  women.  These,  finding  them- 
selves in  this  way  the  mothers  of  strange  children,  con- 
cerning whom  the  voice  of  nature  is  silent  to  them,  seek 
only  to  spare  themselves  annoyance.  A  child  at  liberty 
would  require  incessant  watching ;  but  after  he  is  well 
swaddled,  they  throw  him  into  a  comer  without  troubling 
themselves  at  all  on  account  of  his  cries.  Provided  there  are 
no  proofs  of  the  nm*se*s  carelessness,  provided  that  the 
nursling  does  not  break  his  legs  or  his  arms,  what  does  it 
matter,  after  all,  that  he  is  pining  away,  or  that  he  continues 
feeble  for  the  rest  of  his  life?  His  limbs  are  preserved  at 
the  expense  of  his  life,  and  whatever  happens,  the  nurse  is 
held  free  from  blame. 


THE   NEW-BORN   CHILD.  11 

'  It  is  pretended  that  children,  when  left  free,  may  put  them- 
selves into  bad  positions,  and  make  movements  liable  to 
injure  the  proper  conformation  of  their  limbs.  This  is  one 
of  the  weak  arguments  of  our  false  wisdom,  which  no  experi- 
ence has  ever  confirmed.  Of  that  multitude  of  children  who, 
among  nations  more  sensible  than  ourselves,  are  brought  up 
in  the  full  freedom  of  their  limbs,  not  one  is  seen  to  wound 
or  lame  himself.  They  cannot  give  their  movements  force 
enough  to  make  them  dangerous ;  and  when  they  assume  a 
hurtful  position,  pain  soon  warns  them  to  change  it. 

'  We  have  not  yet  brought  ourselves  to  the  point  of  swad- 
dling puppies  or  kittens  ;  do  we  see  that  any  inconvenience 
results  to  them  from  this  negligence  ?  Children  are  heavier, 
indeed ;  but  in  proportion  they  are  weaker.  They  can 
scarcely  move  themselves  at  all ;  how  can  they  lame  them- 
selves? If  laid  upon  the  back  they  would  die  in  that 
position,  like  the  tortoise,  without  being  able  ever  to  turn 
themselves  againj 

[This  want  of  intelligence  in  the  care  bestowed  upon  young  chil- 
dren is  seen  particularly  in  those  mothers  who  give  themselves  no 
concern  about  their  own,  do  not  themselves  nurse  them,  intrust 
them  to  hireling  nurses.  This  custom  is  fatal  to  all ;  first  to  the 
children  and  finally  to  families,  where  barrenness  becomes  the  rule, 
where  woman  sacrifices  to  her  own  convenience  the  joys  and  the 
duties  of  motherhood.] 

Would  you  recall  every  one  to  his  highest  duties  ?  Begin 
with  the  mothers  ;  you  will  be  astonished  at  the  changes  you 
will  effect.  From  this  first  depravity  all  others  come  in  suc- 
cession. The  entire  moral  order  is  changed  ;  natural  feeling 
is  extinguished  in  all  hearts.  Within  our  homes  there  is 
less  cheerfulness ;  the  touching  sight  of  a  growing  family 
no  •  longer  attaches  the  husband  or  attracts  the  attention 
of  strangers.     The  mother  whose  children  are   not  seen  is 


18  CONCERNING  EDUCATION. 

less  respected.  There  is  no  such  thing  as  a  family  living 
together;  habit  no  longer  strengthens  the  ties  of  blood. 
There  are  no  longer  fathers  and  mothers  and  children  and 
brothers  and  sisters.  They  all  scarcely  know  one  another ; 
how  then  should  they  love  one  another?  Each  one  thinks 
only  of  himself.  When  home  is  a  melancholy,  lonely  place, 
we  must  indeed  go  elsewhere  to  enjoy  ourselves. 

But  let  mothers  onl}^  vouchsafe  to  nourish  their  children,^ 
and  our  manners  will  reform  themselves  ;  the  feelings  of  na- 
ture will  re- awaken  in  all  hearts.  The  State  will  be  repeo- 
pled ;  this  chief  thing,  this  one  thing  will  bring  all  the  rest 
into  order  again.  The  attractions  of  home  life  present  the 
best  antidote  to  bad  morals.  The  bustling  life  of  little  chil- 
dren, considered  so  tiresome,  becomes  pleasant ;  it  makes 
the  father  and  the  mother  more  necessary  to  one  another, 
more  dear  to  one  another ;  it  draws  closer  between  them  the 
conjugal  tie.  When  the  family  is  sprightly  and  animated, 
domestic  cares  form  the  dearest  occupation  of  the  wife  and 
the  sweetest  recreation  of  the  husband.  Thus  the  correction 
of  this  one  abuse  would  soon  result  in  a  general  reform ; 
nature  would  resume  all  her  rights.  When  women  are  once 
more  true  mothers,  men  will  become  true  fathers  and  hus- 
bands. 

If  mothers  are  not  real  mothers,  children  are  not  real  chil- 
dren toward  them.  Their  duties  to  one  another  are  recipro- 
cal, and  if  these  be  badly  fulfilled  on  the  one  side,  they 
will  be   neglected  on  the   other  side.     The   child   ought  to 

1  The  voice  of  Rousseau  was  heard.  The  nursing  of  children  by  their 
own  mothers,  which  had  gone  into  disuse  as  vulgar  and  troublesome,  be- 
came a  fashion.  Great  ladies  prided  themselves  upon  returning  to  the 
usage  of  nature,  and  infants  were  brought  in  with  the  dessert  to  give  an 
exhibition  of  maternal  tenderness.  This  affectation  died  out,  but  in  most 
families  the  good  and  wholesome  custom  of  motherhood  was  retained. 
This  page  of  Rousseau's  contributed  its  share  to  the  happy  result. 


THE  NEW-BORN    CHILD.  19 

love  his  mother  before  he  knows  that  it  is  his  duty  to  love      ^ 
her.     If  the  voice  of  natural  affection  be  not  strengthened  by  j 
habit  and  by  care,  it  will  grow  dumb  even  in  childhood ;  and 
thus  the  heart  dies,  so  to  speak,  before  it  is  born.     Thus 
from  the  outset  we  are  beyond  the  pale  of  nature. 

There  is  an  opposite  way  by  which  a  woman  goes  beyond  ] 
It ;  that  is,  when,  instead  of  neglecting  a  mother's  cares,  she  ' 
carries  them  to  excess ;  when  she  makes  her  child  her  idol. 
She  increases  and  fosters  his  weakness  to  prevent  him 
from  feeling  it.  Hoping  to  shelter  him  from  the  laws  of  na- 
ture, she  wards  from  him  shocks  of  pain.  She  does  not 
consider  how,  for  the  sake  of  preserving  him  for  a  mo- 
ment from  some  inconveniences,  she  is  heaping  upon  his 
head  future  accidents  and  perils ;  nor  how  cruel  is  the  cau- 
tion which  prolongs  the  weakness  of  childhood  in  one  who 
must  bear  the  fatigues  of  a  grown-up  man.  The  fable  sa^' 
that,  to  render  her  son  invulnerable,  Thetis  plunged  him  into 
the  Styx.  This  allegory  is  beautiful  and  clear.  The  cruelj 
mothers  of  whom  I  am  speaking  do  far  otherwise  ;  by  plung- 
ing  their  children  into  effeminacy  they  open  their  pores  to  j 
ills  of  every  kind,  to  which,  when  grown  up,  they  fall  a  cer^ 
tain  prey. 

Watch  nature  carefully,  and  follow  the  paths  she  traces  out 
for  you.  She  gives  children  continual  exercise  ;  she  strength- 
ens^ their  constitution  by  ordeals  of  every  kind  ;  she  teaches 
them  early  what  pain  and  trouble  mean.  The  cutting  of 
their  teeth  gives  them  fever,  sharp  fits  of  colic  throw  them 
into  convulsions,  long  coughing  chokes  them,  worms  torment 
them,  repletion  corrupts  their  blood,  different  leavens  fer- 
menting there  cause  dangerous  eruptions.  Nearly  the  whole 
of  infancy  is  sickness  and  danger ;  half  the  children  born 
into  the  world  die  before  their  eighth  year.  These  trials 
past,  the  child  has  gained  strength,  and  as  soon  as  he 
can  use  life,  its  principle  becomes  more  assured. 


20  CONCERNING  EDUCATION. 

This  is  tl^^aw  of  nature.  Why  do  you  oppose  her?  Do  you 
not  see  that  m  thinking  to  correct  her  you  destroy  her  work 
and  counteract  the  effect  of  all  her  cares  ?  In  your  opinion  ^ 
to  do  without  what  she  is  doing  within  is  to  redouble  the 
danger.  On  the  contrary,  it  is  really  to  avert,  to  mitigate 
that  danger.  Experience  teaches  that  more  children  who  are 
delicately  reared  die  than  others.  Provided  we  do  not  ex- 
ceed the  measure  of  their  strength,  it  is  better  to  employ  it 
Nathan  to  hoard  it.  Give  them  practice,  then,  in  the  trials  they 
will  one  day  have  to~eiidure.  Inure  their  bodies  to  the 
inclemencies  of  the  seasons,  of  climates,  of  elements  ;  to 
hunger,  thirst,  fatigue ;  plunge  them  into  the  water  of  the 
Styx.  Before  the  habits  of  the  body  are  acquired  we  can 
give  it  such  as  we  please  without  risk.  But  when  once 
it  has  reached  its  full  vigor,  any  alteration  is  perilous  to 
its  well-being.  A  child  will  endure  changes  which  a  man 
could  not  bear.  The  fibres  of  the  former,  soft  and  plia- 
ble, take  without  effort  the  bent  we  give  them ;  those  of 
man,  more  hardened,  do  not  without  violence  change  those 
they  have  received.  "We  may  therefore  make  a  child  robust 
without  exposing  his  life  or  his  health ;  and  even  if  there 
were  some  risk  we  still  ought  not  to  hesitate.  Since  there 
are  risks  inseparable  from  human  life,  can  we  do  better  than 
to  throw  them  back  upon  that  period  of  life  when  they  are 
least  disadvantageous? 

A  child  becomes  more  precious  as  he  advances  in  age. 
To  the  value  of  his  person  is  added  that  of  the  cares  he  has 
cost  us;  if  we  lose  his  life,  his  own  consciousness  of  death  is 
added  to  our  sense  of  loss.  Above  all  things,  then,  in  watch- 
ing over  his  preservation  we  must  think  of  the  future.  We 
must  arm  him  against  the  misfortunes  of  youth  before  he  has 
reached  them.  For,  if  the  value  of  life  increases  up  to  the 
Bge  when  life  becomes  useful,  what  folly  it  is  to  spare  the  child 


THE   NEW-BORN   CHILD.  21 

gome  troubles,  and  to  heap  them  upon  the  age  of  reason ! 
Are  these  the  counsels  of  a  master  ? 

Injin  j^es  suffering  is  the  lot  of  man.  Even  to  the  cares 
of  self-preservation  pain  is  joined.  Happy  are  we,  who  in 
childhood  are  acquainted  with  only  phj'sical  misfortunes — 
misfortunes  far  less  cruel,  less  painful  than  others;  misfor- 
tunes which  far  more  rarely  make  us  renounce  life.  We  do 
not  kill  ourselves  on  account  of  the  pains  of  gout ;  seldom  do 
any  but  those  of  the  mind  produce  despair.^ 

We  pity  the  lot  of  infancy,  and  it  is  our  own  lot  that  we 
ought  to  pity.  Our  greatest  misfortunes  come  to  us  from 
ourselves. 

At  birth  a  child  cries  ;  his  earliest  infancy  is  spent  in  cry- 
ing. Sometimes  he  is  tossed,  he  is  petted,  to  appease  him ; 
sometimes  he  is  threatened,  beaten,  to  make  him  keep  quiet. 
We  either  do  as  he  pleases,  or  else  we  exact  from  him  what  /^ 
we  please  ;  we  either  submit  to  his  whims,  or  make  him  subr  J 
mit  to  ours.  There  is  no  middle  course  ;  he  must  either  give 
or  receive  orders.  Thus  his  first  ideas  are  those  of  absolute 
rule  and  of  slavery.  Before  he  knows  how  to  speak,  he 
commands ;  before  he  is  able  to  act,  he  obeys ;  and  some- 
times he  is  punished  before  he  knows  what  his  faults  are,  or 
rather,  before  he  is  capable  of  committing  them.  Thus  do 
we  early  pour  into  his  young  heart  the  passions  that  are 
afterward  imputed  to  nature ;  and,  after  having  taken  pains 
to  make  him  wicked,  we  complain  of  finding  him  wicked. 

A  child  passes  six  or  seven  years  of  his  life  in  this  manner 
!  in  the  hands  of  women,  the  victim  of  his  own  caprice  and  of 
I  theirs.     After  having  made  him  learn  this  and  that, —  after 

1  This  remark  is  not  a  just  one.  How  often  have  we  seen  unhappy 
creatures  disgusted  with  life  because  of  some  dreadful  and  incurable  mal- 
ady ?  It  is  true  that  suicide,  being  an  act  of  madness,  is  more  frequently 
Daused  by  those  troubles  which  imagination  delights  itself  in  magnifying 
Up  to  the  point  of  insanity. 


22  CONCERNING   EDUCATION. 

having  loaded  his  memory  either  with  words  he  cannot  under- 
stand, or  with  facts  which  are  of  no  use  to  him, — after  having 
stifled  his  natural  disposition  by  the  passions  we  have  created, 
we  put  this  artificial  creature  into  the  hands  of  a  tutor  who 
finishes  the  development  of  the  artificial  germs  he  finds 
already  formed,  and  teaches  him  ever3rthing  except  to  know 
himself,  ever3^thing  except  to  know  how  to  live  and  how 
to  make  himself  happy.  Finally,  when  this  enslaved  child,  this 
little  tyrant,  full  of  learning  and  devoid  of  sense,  enfeebled 
alike  in  mind  and  body,  is  cast  upon  the  world,  he  there  by 
his  unfitness,  by  his  pride,  and  by  all  his  vices,  makes  us  de- 
plore human  wretchedness  and  perversity.  We  deceive  our- 
selves ;  this  is  the  man  our  whims  have  created.  Nature 
makes  men  by  a  diflerent  process. 

Do  you  then  wish  him  to  preserve  his  original  form? 
Preserve  it  from  the  moment  he  enters  the  world.  As  soon  as 
J^e  is  born  take  possession  of  him,  and  do  not  leave  him  until 
he  is  a  man.  Without  this  you  will  never  succeed.  As  the 
mother  is  the  true  nurse,  the  father  is  the  true  teacher. 
Let  them  be  of  one  mind  as  to  the  order  in  which  their  func- 
tions are  fulfilled,  as  well  as  in  regard  to  their  plan ;  let  the 
child  pass  from  the  hands  of  the  one  into  the  hands  of  the 
other.  He  will  be  better  educated  by  a  father  who  is  judi- 
cious, even  though  of  moderate  attainments,  than  by  the 
most  skilful  master  in  the  world.  For  zeal  will  supple- 
msnt  talent  better  than  talent,  can  supply  wBafohly  zeal 
can  give. 

A  father TwlTSn  he  brings  his  children  into  existence  and 
supports  them,  has,  in  so  doing,  fulfilled  only  a  third  part  of 
his  task.  To  the  human  race  he  owes  men  ;  to  society,  men 
fitted  for  society ;  to  the  State,  citizens.  Every  man  who 
Oan  pay  this  triple  debt,  and  does  not  pay  it .  is  a  guilty  man ; 
and  if  he  pays  it  by  halves,  he  is  perhaps  more  guilty  still 


THE  NEW-BOBN   CHILD.  23 

J* 
He  who  cannot  fulfil  the  duties  of  a  father  has  no  right  to  / 

be  a  father.  Not  poverty,  nor  severe  labor,  nor  human  re- 
spect can  release  him  from  the  duty  of  supporting  his  chil- 
dren and  of  educating  them  himself.  Readers,  you  may  be- 
lieve my  words.  I  prophesy  to  any  one  who  has  natural 
feeling  and  neglects  these  sacred  duties, —  that  he  will  long 
shed  bitter  tears  over  this  fault,  and  that  for  those  tears  he 
will  find  no  consolation.^ 

•  [It  being  supposed  that  the  father  is  unable  or  unwilling  to  charge 
himself  personally  with  the  education  of  his  son,  he  must  charge  a 
third  person  with  it;  must  seek  out  a  master,  a  teacher  for  the 
chUd.] 

The  qualifications  of  a  good  tutor  are  very  freely  dis- 
cussed. The  first  qualification  I  should  require  in  him,  >^ 
and  this  one  presupposes  many  others,  is,  that  he  shallA''^ 
not  be  capable  of  selling  himself.  There  are  employments 
so  noble  that  we  cannot  fulfil  them  for  money  without  show- 
ing ourselves  unworthy  to  fulfil  them.  Such  an  employment 
is  that  of  a  soldier  ;  such  a  one  is  that  of  a  teacher.  Who, 
then,  shall  educate  my  child?  I  have  told  you  already, — ■ 
yourself.  I  cannot !  Then  make  for  yourself  a  friend  who 
can.     I  see  no  other  alternative. 

*  A  teacher !  what  a  great  soul  he  ought  to  be  !     Truly,  toT 
form   a  man,  one  must  be  either  himself  a  father,  or  else 
something  more  than  human.     And  this  is  the  oflSce  youj 
calmly  entrust  to  hirelings  !  '^  ) 

1  This  is  an  allusion  to  one  of  the  most  unfortunate  episodes  in  the  life  of 
Rousseau, — his  abandoning  of  the  children  whom  Therese  Levasseur  bore 
him,  and  whom  he  sent  to  a  foundling  hospital  because  he  felt  within  him 
neither  courage  to  labor  for  their  support,  nor  capacity  to  educate  them. 
Sad  practical  defect  in  this  teacher  of  theories  of  education! 

2  For  the  particular  example  of  education  which  he  supposes,  Rousseau 
creates  a  tutor  whom  he  consecrates  absolutely,  exclusively,  to  the  work. 
He  desires  on©  so  perfect  that  he  calls  him  a  prodigy.    Let  us  not  blame 


24  CONCERNING   EDUCATION. 


The  Earliest  Education. 

Children's  first  impressions  are  purely  those  of  feeling; 
they  perceive  only  pleasure  and  pain.  Unable  either  to 
move  about,  or  to  grasp  anything  with  their  hands,  they 
need  a  great  deal  of  time  to  form  sensations  which  represent, 
and  so  make  them  aware  of  objects  outside  of  themselves. 
But,  during  all  this  time,  while  these  objects  are  extending, 
and,  as  it  were,  receding  from  their  eyes,  assuming,  to  them, 
form  and  dimension,  the  constantly  recurring  sensations 
begin  to  subject  the  little  creatures  to  the  sway  of  habit.  We 
see  their  eyes  incessantly  turning  toward  the  light ;  and,  if  it 
comes  to  them  from  one  side,  unwittingly  taking  the  direc- 
tion of  that  side ;  so  that  their  faces  ought  to  be  carefully 
turned  toward  the  light,  lest  they  become  squint-eyed,  or 
accustom  themselves  to  look  awry.  They  should,  also,  early 
accustom  themselves  to  darkness,  or  else  they  will  cry  and 
scream  as  soon  as  they  are  left  in  the  dark.  Food  and  sleep, 
if  too  exactly  proportioned,  become  necessary  to  them  after 
the  lapse  of  the  same  intervals ;  and  soon  the  desire  arises 
not  from  necessit}' ,  but  from  habit.  Or  rather,  habit  adds  a 
new  want  to  those  of  nature,  and  this  must  be  prevented. 

The  onl}'  habit  a  child  should  be  allowed  to  form  is  to  con- 
tract no  habits  whatever.  Let  him  not  be  carried  upon  one 
arm  more  than  upon  another ;  let  him  not  be  accustomed  to 

him  for  this.  The  ideal  of  those  who  assume  the  nohle  and  difl&cult  office 
of  a  teacher  of  childhood  cannot  be  placed  too  high.  As  to  the  pupil, 
Rousseau  imagines  a  child  of  average  ability,  in  easy  circumstances,  and  of 
robust  health.  He  makes  him  an  only  son  and  an  orphan,  so  that  no  fam- 
ily vicissitudes  may  disturb  the  logic  of  his  plan. 

All  this  may  be  summed  up  by  saying  that  he  considers  the  child  in  him- 
self with  regard  to  his  individual  development,  and  without  regard  to  his 
relations  to  ordinary  life.  This  at  the  same  time  renders  his  task  easy,  and 
deprives  him  of  an  important  element  of  education. 


THE  EARLIEST   EDUCATION.  26 

put  forth  one  hand  rather  than  the  other,  or  to  use  it  oftener  •, 
nor  to  desire  to  eat,  to  sleep,  to  act  in  any  way,  at  regular 
hours  ;  nor  to  be  unable  to  stay  alone  either  by  night  or  by 
day.  Prepare  long  beforehand  for  the  time  when  he  shall 
freely  use  all  his  strength.  Do  this  by  leaving  hi§Ht)od^ 
under  the  control  of  its  natural  bent,  by  fitting  him  to  be 
always  master  of  himself,  and  to  carry  out  his  own  will  in 
everything  as  soon  as  he  has  a  will  of  his  own. 

Since  the  only  kinds  of  objects  presented  to  him  are  likely 
to  make  him  either  timid  or  courageous,  why  should  not  his 
education  begin  before  he  speaks  or  understands  ?  I  would 
habituate  him  to  seeing  new  objects,  though  they  be  ugly, 
repulsive,  or  singular.  But  let  this  be  by  degrees,  and  from 
a  distance,  until  he  has  become  accustomed  to  them,  and, 
from  seeing  them  handled  by  others,  shall  at  last  handle 
them  himself.  If  during  his  infancy  he  has  seen  without 
fear  frogs,  serpents,  crawfishes,  he  will,  when  grown  up,  see 
without  shrinking  any  animal  that  may  be  shown  him.  For 
one  who  daily  sees  frightful  objects,  there  are  none  such. 

All  children  are  afraid  of  masks.  I  begin  by  showing 
Emile  the  mask  of  a  pleasant  face.  By  and  by  some  one 
puts  the  mask  upon  his  own  face,  so  that  the  child  can  see 
it.  I  begin  to  laugh ;  every  one  else  laughs,  and  the  child 
with  the  rest.  By  degrees  I  familiarize  him  with  less  comely 
masks,  and  finally  with  really  hideous  ones.  K  I  have  man- 
aged the  process  well,  he  will,  far  from  being  frightened  at 
the  last  mask,  laugh  at  it  as  he  laughed  at  the  first.  After 
that,  I  shall  not  fear  his  being  frightened  by  any  one  with  a 
mask. 

When,  in  the  farewell  scene  between  Hector  and  Andro- 
mache, the  little  Astyanax,  terrified  at  the  plume  floating 
from  a  helmet,  fails  to  recognize  his  father,  throws  himself, 
crying,  upon  his  nurse's  breast,  and  wins  from  his  mother  a 


26  CONCERNING  EDUCATION. 

smile  bright  with  tears,  what  ought  to  be  done  to  soothe  his 
fear?  Precisely  what  Hector  does.  He  places  the  helmet 
on  the  ground,  and  then  caresses  his  child.  At  a  more  tran- 
quil moment,  this  should  not  have  been  all.  They  should 
have  drawn  near  the  helmet,  played  with  its  plumes,  caused 
the  child  to  handle  them.  At  last  the  nurse  should  have 
lifted  the  helmet  and  laughingly  set  it  on  her  own  head  — 
if,  indeed,  the  hand  of  a  woman  dared  touch  the  armor  of 
Hector. 

If  I  wish  to  familiarize  Emile  with  the  noise  of  fire-arms, 
I  first  burn  some  powder  in  a  pistol.  The  quickly  vanishing 
flame,  the  new  kind  of  lightning,  greatly  pleases  him.  I 
repeat  the  process,  using  more  powder.  By  degrees  I  put 
into  the  pistol  a  small  charge,  without  ramming  it  down; 
then  a  larger  charge  ;  finally,  I  accustom  him  to  the  noise  of 
a  gun,  to  bombs,  to  cannon-shots,  to  the  most  terrific  noises. 

I  have  noticed  that  children  are  rarely  afraid  of  thunder, 
unless,  indeed,  the  thunder-claps  are  so  frightful  as  actually 
to  wound  the  organ  of  hearing.  Otherwise,  they  fear  it  only 
when  they  have  been  taught  that  thunder  sometimes  wounds 
or  kills.  When  reason  begins  to  affright  them,  let  habit 
reassure  them.  By  a  slow  and  well  conducted  process  the 
man  or  the  child  is  rendered  fearless  of  everything. 

In  this  outset  of  life,  while  memory  and  imagination  are 
still  inactive,  the  child  pays  attention  only  to  what  actually 
aflects  his  senses.  The  first  materials  of  his  knowledge  are 
his  sensations.  K,  therefore,  these  are  presented  to  him  in 
suitable  order,  his  memory  can  hereafter  present  them  to  his 
understanding  in  the  same  order.  But  as  he  attends  to  his 
sensations  only,  it  will  at  first  suflSce  to  show  him  very 
clearly  the  connection  between  these  sensations,  and  the 
objects  which  give  rise  to  them.  He  is  eager  to  touch  every- 
thing, to  handle  everything.     Do  not  thwart  this  restless 


THE   EARLIEST   EDUCATION.  27 

desire ;  it  suggests  to  him  a  very  necessary  apprenticeship. 
It  is  thus  he  learns  to  feel  the  heat  and  coldness,  hardness 
and  softness,  heaviness  and  lightness  of  bodies  ;  to  judge  of 
their  size,  their  shape,  and  all  their  sensible  qualities,  by 
looking,  by  touching,  by  listening ;  above  all,  by  comparing 
the  results  of  sight  with  those  of  touch,  estimating  with  the 
eye  the  sensation  a  thing  produces  upon  the  fingers. 

By  movement  alone  we  learn  the  existence  of  things  which 
are  not  ourselves ;  and  it  is  by  our  own  movements  alone 
that  we  gain  the  idea  of  extension. 

Because  the  child  has  not  this  idea,  he  stretches  out  his 
hand  indifferently  to  seize  an  object  which  touches  him,  or 
one  which  is  a  hundred  paces  distant  from  him.  The  effort 
he  makes  in  doing  this  appears  to  3'ou  a  sign  of  domination, 
an  order  he  gives  the  object  to  come  nearer,  or  to  you  to 
bring  it  to  him.  It  is  nothing  of  the  kind.  It  means  only 
that  the  object  seen  first  within  the  brain,  then  upon  the  eye, 
is  now  seen  at  arm's  length,  and  that  he  does  not  conceive 
of  any  distance  beyond  his  reach.  Be  careful,  then,  to  walk 
often  with  him,  to  transport  him  from  one  place  to  another, 
to  let  him  feel  the  change  of  position,  and,  in  this  way  to 
teach  him  how  to  judge  of  distances.  When  he  begins  to 
know  them,  change  the  plan ;  carry  him  only  where  it  is 
convenient  for  3'ou  to  do  so,  and  not  wherever  it  pleases  him. 
For  as  soon  as  he  is  no  longer  deceived  by  the  senses,  his 
attempts  arise  from  another  cause.  This  change  is  remark- 
able and  demands  explanation. 

The  uneasiness  arising  from  our  wants  expresses  itself  by 
signs  whenever  help  in  supplying  these  wants  is  needed ; 
hence  the  cries  of  children.  They  cry  a  great  deal,  and  this 
is  natural.  Since  all  their  sensations  are  those  of  feeling, 
children  enjoy  them  in  silence,  when  the  sensations  are 
pleasant ;  otherwise  they  express  them  in  their  own  language^ 


28  CONCERNING  EDUCATION. 

and  ask  relief.  Now  as  long  as  children  are  awake  they 
cannot  be  in  a  state  of  indifference  ;  they  either  sleep  or  are 
moved  by  pleasure  and  pain.  ^ 

■  All  our  languages  are  the  result  o^art.  Whether  there  is 
a  natural  language,  common  to  all  mankind,  has  long  been  a 

i     matter  of  investigation.     Without  doubt  there   is   such   a 
,    I    language,  and  it  is  the  one  that  children  utter  before  they 

I     know  how  to  talk.     This  language  is  not  articulate,  but  it  is 

accentuated,  sonorous,  intelligible.     The  using  of  our  own 

language  has  led  us  to  neglect  this,  even  so  far  as  to  forget 

\^^  it  altogether.     Let  us  study  children,  and  we   shall   soon 

^  acquire  it  again  from  them.  Nurses  are  our  teachers  in  this 
language.  They  understand  all  their  nurslings  say,  they 
answer  them,  the}'  hold  really  connected  dialogues  with 
them.  And,  although  they  pronounce  words,  these  words 
are  entirely  useless  ;  the  child  understands,  not  the  meaning 
of  the  words,  but  the  accent  which  accompanies  them. 

To  the  language  of  the  voice  is  added  the  no  less  forcible 
language  of  gesture.  This  gesture  is  not  that  of  children's 
feeble  hands  ;  it  is  that  seen  in  their  faces.  It  is  astonishing 
to  see  how  much  expression  these  immature  countenances 
already  have.  From  moment  to  moment,  their  features 
change  with  inconceivable  quickness.  On  them  j'ou  see  the 
smile,  the  wish,  the  fear,  spring  into  life,  and  pass  away, 
Uke  so  many  lightning  flashes.  Each  time  you  seem  to  see 
a  different  countenance.  They  certainl}^  have  much  more 
flexible  facial  muscles  than  ours.  On  the  other  hand,  theii 
dull  eyes  tell  us  almost  nothing  at  all. 

Such  is  naturally  the  character  of  ttieir  expression  when 

all  their  wants  are  physical.     Sensations  are  made  known  by 

grimaces,  sentiments  by  looks. 

/^       As  the  first  state  of  man  is  wretchedness  and  weakness, 

X^  Bo  his  first  utterances  are  complaints  and  tears.     The  child 


THE  EARLIEST    EDUCATION.  29 

feels  his  need  and  cannot  satisfy  it ;  he  implores  aid  from 
others  by  crying.  If  he  is  hungry  or  thirsty,  he  cries  ;  if  he 
is  too  cold  or  too  warm,  he  cries  ;  if  he  wishes  to  move  or  to 
be  kept  at  rest,  he  cries ;  if  he  wishes  to  sleep  or  to  be 
moved  about,  he  cries.  The  less  control  he  has  of  his  own 
mode  of  living,  the  oftener  he  asks  those  about  him  to 
change  it.  He  has  but  one  language,  because  he  feels,  so  to 
speak,  but  one  sort  of  discomfort.  In  the  imperfect  condi- 
tion of  his  organs,  he  does  not  distinguish  their  different 
impressions ;  all  ills  produce  in  him  only  a  sensation  of 
pain. 

From  this  crying,  regarded  as  so  little  worthy  of  attention, 
arises  the  first  relation  of  man  to  all  that  surrounds  him ; 
just  here  is  forged  the  first  link  of  that  long  chain  which 
constitutes  social  order. 

i™  When  the  child  cries,  he  is  ill  at  ease  ;  he  has  some  want 
that  he  cannot  satisfy.  We  examine  into  it,  we  search 
for  the  want,  find  it,  and  relieve  it.  When  we  cannot  find 
it,  or  relieve  it,  the  crying  continues.  We  are  annoyed  by 
it;  we  caress  the  child  to  make  him  keep  quiet,  we  rock  him 
and  sing  to  him,  to  lull  him  asleep.  If  he  persists,  we  grow 
impatient ;  we  threaten  him ;  brutal  nurses  sometimes  strike 
him.  These  are  strange  lessons  for  him  upon  his  entrance 
into  life. 

The  first  crying  of  children  is  a  prayer.  If  we  do  not 
heed  it  well,  this  crying  soon  becomes  a  command.  They 
begin  by  asking  our  aid ;  they  end  by  compelling  us  to  serve 
them.  Thus  from  their  very  weakness,  whence  comes,  at  first, 
their  feeling  of  dependence,  springs  afterward  the  idea  of 
empire,  and  of  commanding  others.  But  as  this  idea  is 
awakened  less  by  their  own  wants,  than  by  the  fact  that  we 
are  serving  them,  those  moral  results  whose  immediate  cause 
is  not  in  nature,  are  here  perceived.     We  therefore  see  why, 


K 


80  CONCERNING  EDUCATION. 

even  at  this  earl}^  age,  it  is  important  to  discern  the  hidden 
purpose  which  dictates  the  gesture  or  the  cry. 

When  the  child  stretches  forth  his  hand  with  an  effort,  but 
without  a  sound,  he  thinks  he  can  reach  some  object,  be- 
cause he  does  not  properly  estimate  its  distance ;  he  is 
mistaken.  But  if,  while  stretching  out  his  hand,  he  com- 
plains and  cries,  he  is  no  longer  deceived  as  to  the  distance. 
He  is  commanding  the  object  to  come  to  him,  or  is  directing 
you  to  bring  it  to  him.  In  the  first  case,  carry  him  to  the 
object  slowly,  and  with  short  steps ;  in  the  second  case^  do 
not  even  appear  to  understand  him.  It  is  worth  while  to 
habituate  him  early  not  to  command  people,  for  he  is  not 
their  master;  nor  things,  for  they  cannot  understand  him. 
So,  when  a  child  wants  something  he  sees,  and  we  mean  to 
give  it  to  him,  it  is  better  to  carry  him  to  the  object  than  to 
fetch  the  object  to  him.  From  this  practice  of  ours  he  will 
learn  a  lesson  suited  to  his  age,  and  there  is  no  better  way 
of  suggesting  this  lesson  to  him. 


Maxims  to  Keep  us  True  to  Nature. 

r^, Reason  alone  teaches  us  to  know  good  and  evil.     Con- 
science, which  makes  us  love  the  one  and  hate  the  other,  is 
I   independent  of  reason,  but  cannot  grow  strong  without  its 
I  aid.     Before  reaching  years  of  reason,  we  do  good  and  evil 
I  unconsciously.     There  is  no  moral  character  in  our  actions, 
although  there   sometimes  is  in   our  feeling   toward  those 
actions  of  others  which  relate  to  us.     A  child  likes  to  disturb 
everything  he  sees  ;  he  breaks,  he  shatters  everything  within 
his  reach  ;  he  lays  hold  of  a  bird  just  as  he  would  lay  hold  of 
a  stone,  and  strangles  it  without  knowing  what  he  is  doing. 

Why  is  this  ?    At  first  view,  philosophy  would  account  for 
it  on  the  ground  of  vices  natural  to  us  —  pride,  the  spirit  ojf 


MAXIMS.  81 

domination,  self-love,  the  wickedness  of  mankind.  It  would 
perhaps  add,  that  the  sense  of  his  own  weakness  makes  the 
child  eager  to  do  things  requiring  strength,  and  so  prove  to 
himself  his  own  power.  But  see  that  old  man,  infirm  and 
broken  down,  whom  the  cycle  of  human  life  brings  back  to 
the  weakness  of  childhood.  Not  only  does  he  remain 
immovable  and  quiet,  but  he  wishes  everything  about  him 
to  be  in  the  same  condition.  The  slightest  change  disturbs 
and  disquiets  him ;  he  would  like  to  see  stillness  reigning 
everywhere.  How  could  the  same  powerlessness,  joined  to 
the  same  passions,  produce  such  different  effects  in  the  two 
ages,  if  the  primary  cause  were  not  changed?  And  where 
can  we  seek  for  this  difference  of  cause,  unless  it  be  in  the 
ph}' sical  condition  of  the  two  individuals  ?  The  active  prin- 
ciple common  to  the  two  is  developing  in  the  one,  and  dying 
out  in  the  other ;  the  one  is  growing,  and  the  other  is  wear- 
ing itself  out ;  the  one  is  tending  toward  life,  and  the  other 
toward  death.  Failing  activity  concentrates  itself  in  the 
heart  of  the  old  man  ;  in  the  child  it  is  superabounding,  and 
reaches  outward  ;  he  seems  to  feel  within  him  life  enough  to 
animate  all  that  surrounds  him.  Whether  he  makes  or 
unmakes  matters  little  to  him.  It  is  enough  that  he  changes 
the  condition  of  things,  and  that  every  change  is  an  action. 
If  he  seems  more  inclined  to  destroy  things,  it  is  not  out  of 
perverseness,  but  because  the  action  which  creates  is  always 
slow ;  and  that  which  destroys,  being  more  rapid,  better 
suits  his  natural  sprightliness. 

While  the  Author  of  nature  gives  children  this  active  prin- 
ciple, he  takes  care  that  it  shall  do  little  harm ;  for  he  leaves 
them  little  power  to  indulge  it.  But  no  sooner  do  they  look 
upon  those  about  them  as  instruments  which  it  is  their 
business  to  set  in  motion,  than  they  make  use  of  them  in 
following  their  own  inclinations  and  in  making  up  for  their 


52  CONCERNING  EDUCATION. 

own  want  of  strength.  In  this  way  they  become  disagree- 
able, tyrannical,  imperious,  perverse,  unruly  ;  a  development 
not  arising  from  a  natural  spirit  of  domination,  but  creating 
such  a  spirit.  For  no  very  long  experience  is  requisite  in 
teaching  how  pleasant  it  is  to  act  through  others,  and  to  need 
only  move  one's  tongue  to  set  the  world  in  motion. 

As  we  grow  up,  we  gain  strength,  we  become  less  uneasy 
and  restless,  we  shut  ourselves  more  within  ourselves.  The 
soul  and  the  body  put  themselves  in  equilibrium,  as  it  were, 
and  nature  requires  no  more  motion  than  is  necessary  for  out 
preservation. 

But  the  wish  to  command  outlives  the  necessity  from 
which  it  sprang;  power  to  control  others  awakens  and 
gratifies  self-love,  and  habit  makes  it  strong.  Thus  need 
gives  place  to  whim ;  thus  do  prejudices  and  opinions  first 
root  themselves  within  us. 

The  principle  once  understood,  we  see  clearly  the  point  at 
which  we  leave  the  path  of  nature.  Let  us  discover  what 
we  ought  to  do,  to  keep  within  it. 

Far  from  having  too  much  strength,  children  have  not 
even  enough  for  all  that  nature  demands  of  them.  We 
ought,  then,  to  leave  them  the  fi*ee  use  of  all  natural  strength 
which  they  cannot  misuse.     First  maxim. 

We  must  aid  them,  supplying  whatever  they  lack  in  intel- 
ligence, in  strength,  in  all  that  belongs  to  physical  necessity. 
Second  maxim. 

In  helping  them,  we  must  confine  ourselves  to  what  is 
^  really  of  use  to  them,  yielding  nothing  to  their  whims  or 
unreasonable  wishes.  For  their  own  caprice  will  not  trouble 
them  unless  we  ourselves  create  it ;  4  Vii^HfljiPtM^fll  thing 
Third  maxim. 
N^  We  must  study  carefully  their  language  and  their  signs,  so 
that,  at  an  age  when  they  cannot  dissemble,  we  may  judge 


MAXIMS.  88 

which  of  their  desires  spring  from  nature  itself,  and  which 
of  them  from  opinion.     Fourth  maxim. 

The  meaning  of  these  rules  is,  to  allow  children  more 
personal  freedom  and  less  authority ;  to  let  them  do  more 
for  themselves,  and  exact  less  from  others.  Thus  accus- 
tomed betimes  to  desire  only  what  they  can  obtain  or  do  for 
themselves,  they  will  feel  less  keenly  the  want  of  whatever  is 
not  within  their  own  power. 

Here  there  is  another  and  very  important  reason  for  leav- 
ing children  absolutely  free  as  to  body  and  limbs,  with  the 
sole  precaution  of  keeping  them  from  the  danger  of  falling, 
and  of  putting  out  of  their  reach  everything  that  can  injure 
them. 

Doubtless  a  child  whose  body  and  arms  are  free  will  cry 
less  than  one  bound  fast  in  swaddling  clothes.  He  who  feels 
only  physical  wants  cries  only  when  he  suffers,  and  this  is  a 
great  advantage.  For  then  we  know  exactly  when  he 
requires  help,  and  we  ought  not  to  delay  one  moment  in 
giving  him  help,  if  possible. 

But  if  you  cannot  relieve  him,  keep  quiet ;  do  not  try  to 
soothe  him  by  petting  him.  Your  caresses  will  not  cure  his 
colic ;  but  he  will  remember  what  he  has  to  do  in  order  to  be 
petted.  And  if  he  once  discovers  that  he  can,  at  will,  busy 
3^ou  about  him,  he  will  have  become  your  master ;  the  mis- 
chief is  done. 

If  children  were  not  so  much  thwarted  in  their  movements, 
they  would  not  cry  so  much ;  if  we  were  less  annoyed  by 
their  crying,  we  would  take  less  pains  to  hush  them ;  if  they 
were  not  so  often  threatened  or  caressed,  they  would  be  less 
timid  or  less  stubborn,  and  more  truly  themselves  as  nature 
made  them.  It  is  not  so  often  by  letting  children  cry,  as  by 
hastening  to  quiet  them,  that  we  make  them  rupture  them- 
Bslves.     The  proof  of  this  is  that  the  children  most  neglected 


84  CONCERNING  EDUCATION. 

are  less  subject  than  others  to  this  infirmity.  I  am  far  from 
wishing  them  to  be  neglected,  however.  On  the  contrary, 
we  ought  to  anticipate  their  wants,  and  not  wait  to  be  noti- 
fied of  these  by  the  children's  crjdng.  Yet  I  would  not  have 
them  misunderstand  the  cares  we  bestow  on  them.  Why 
should  they  consider  crying  a  fault,  when  they  find  that  it 
avails  so  much?  Knowing  the  value  of  their  silence,  they 
will  be  careful  not  to  be  lavish  of  it.  They  will,  at  last, 
make  it  so  costly  that  we  can  no  longer  pay  for  it ;  and  then 
it  is  that  by  crying  without  success  they  strain,  weaken,  and 
kill  themselves. 

The  long  crying  fits  of  a  child  who  is  not  compressed  oi 
ill,  or  allowed  to  want  for  anything,  are  from  habit  and 
obstinacy.  They  are  b}^  no  means  the  work  of  nature,  but 
of  the  nurse,  who,  because  she  cannot  endure  the  annoyance, 
multiplies  it,  without  reflecting  that  by  stilling  the  child  to* 
day,  he  is  induced  to  crj^  the  more  to-morrow. 

The  only  way  to  cure  or  prevent  this  habit  is  to  pay  iK- 
attention  to  it.  No  one,  not  even  a  child,  likes  to  tak^ 
unnecessary  trouble. 

They  are  stubborn  in  then*  attempts  ;  but  if  you  have  more 
firmness  than  they  have  obstinacy,  they  are  discouraged,  and 
do  not  repeat  the  attempt.  Thus  we  spare  them  some  tears, 
and  accustom  them  to  cry  only  when  pain  forces  them  to  it. 

Nevertheless  when  they  do  cry  from  caprice  or  stubborn- 
ness, a  sure  way  to  prevent  their  continuing  is,  to  turn  their 
attention  to  some  agreeable  and  striking  object,  and  so  make 
them  forget  their  desire  to  cry.  In  this  art  most  nurses 
excel,  and  when  skilfully  employed,  it  is  very  effective.  But 
it  is  highly  important  that  the  child  should  not  know  of  our 
intention  to  divert  him,  and  that  he  should  amuse  himself 
without  at  all  thinking  we  have  him  in  mind.  In  this  all 
Qurses  are  unskilful. 


LANGUAGE.  85 

All  children  are  weaned  too  early.  The  proper  time  is 
indicated  by  their  teething.  This  process  is  usually  painful 
and  distressing.  By  a  mechanical  instinct  the  child,  at  that 
time,  carries  to  his  mouth  and  chews  everything  he  holds. 
We  think  we  make  the  operation  easier  by  giving  him  for  a 
plaything  some  hard  substance,  such  as  ivory  or  coral.  I 
think  we  are  mistaken.  Far  from  softening  the  gums,  these 
hard  bodies,  when  applied,  render  them  hard  and  callous, 
and  prepare  the  way  for  a  more  painful  and  distressing  lac- 
eration. Let  us  always  take  instinct  for  guide.  We  never 
see  puppies  try  their  growing  teeth  upon  flints,  or  iron,  or 
bones,  but  upon  wood,  or  leather,  or  rags, —  upon  soft  mate- 
rials, which  give  way,  and  on  which  the  tooth  impresses  itself. 

We  no  longer  aim  at  simplicity,  even  where  children  are 
concerned.  Golden  and  silver  bells,  corals,  crystals,  toys 
of  every  price,  of  every  sort.  What  useless  and  mischiev- 
ous affectations  they  are !  Let  there  be  none  of  them,  — 
no  bells,  no  toys. 

A  little  twig  covered  with  its  own  leaves  and  fruit,  —  a  ? 
poppy-head,  in  which  the  seeds  can  be  heard  rattling, —  a  stick 
of  liquorice  he  can  suck  and  chew,  these  will  amuse  a  child 
quite  as  well  as  the  splendid  baubles,  and  will  not  disadvan- 
tage him  by  accustoming  him  to  luxury  from  his  very  birth. 


Language. 

From  the  time  they  are  born,  children  hear  people  speak. 
They  are  spoken  to  not  only  before  they  understand  what 
3s  said  to  them,  but  before  they  can  repeat  the  sounds  they 
hear.  Their  organs,  still  benumbed,  adapt  themselves  only 
by  degrees  to  imitating  the  sounds  dictated  to  them,  and  it 
is  not  even  certain  that  these  sounds  are  borne  to  their  ears 
at  first  as  distinctly  as  to  ours. 


I 


86  CONCERNING   EDUCATION. 

I  do  not  disapprove  of  a  nurse's  amusing  the  child  with 
songs,  and  with  blithe  and  varied  tones.  But  I  do  disap- 
prove of  her  perpetually  deafening  him  with  a  multitude  of 
useless  words,  of  which  he  understands  only  the  tone  she 
gives  them. 

I  would  like  the  first  articulate  sounds  he  must  hear  to  be 
few  in  number,  easy,  distinct,  often  repeated.  The  words 
they  form  should  represent  only  material  objects  which  can 
be  shown  him.  Our  unfortunate  readiness  to  content  our- 
selves with  words  that  have  no  meaning  to  us  whatever, 
^begins  earlier  than  we  suppose.  Even  as  in  his  swaddling- 
clothes  the  child  hears  his  nurse's  babble,  he  hears  in  class 
♦the  verbiage  of  his  teacher.  It  strikes  me  that  if  he  were  to 
|be  so  brought  up  that  he  could  not  understand  it  at  all,  he 
^ould  be  very  well  instructed.^ 

Reflections  crowd  upon  us  when  we  set  about  discussing 
the  formation  of  children's  language,  and  their  baby  talk 
itself.  In  spite  of  us,  they  alwa3'S  learn  to  speak  by  the 
same  process,  and  all  our  philosophical  speculations  about  it 
are  entirely  useless. 

They  seem,  at  first,  to  have  a  grammar  adapted  to  their 
own  age,  although  its  rules  of  syntax  are  more  general  than 
ours.  And  if  we  were  to  pay  close  attention  to  them,  we 
should  be  astonished  at  the  exactness  with  which  they  follow 
certain  analogies,  very  faulty  if  you  will,  but  very  regular, 
that  are  displeasing  only  because  harsh,  or  because  usage 
does  not  recognize  them. 

It  is  unbearable  pedantry,  and  a  most   useless  labor,  to 

1  No  doubt  this  sarcasm  is  applicable  to  those  teachers  who  talk  so  as  to 
say  nothing.  A  teacher  ought,  on  the  contrary,  to  speak  only  so  as  to  be 
understood  by  the  child.  He  ought  to  adapt  himself  to  the  child's  ca- 
pacity; to  employ  no  useless  or  conventional  expressions;  his  language 
pught  to  arouse  curiosity  and  to  impart  light 


LANGUAGE.  87 

attempt  correcting  in  children  every  little  fault  against  usage ; 
they  never  fail  themselves  to  correct  these  faults  in  time. 
Always  speak  correctly  in  their  presence ;  order  it  so  that 
they  are  never  so  happy  with  any  one  as  with  you ;  and  rest 
assured  their  language  will  insensibly  be  purified  by  your 
own,  without  your  having  ever  reproved  them. 

But  another  error,  which  has  an  entirely  different  bearing 
on  the  matter,  and  is  no  less  easy  to  prevent,  is  our  being 
over-anxious  to  make  them  speak,  as  if  we  feared  they 
might  not  of  their  own  accord  learn  to  do  so.  Our  injudi- 
cious haste  has  an  effect  exactly  contrary  to  what  we  wish. 
On  account  of  it  they  learn  more  slowly  and  speak  more 
indistinctly.  The  marked  attention  paid  to  everything  they 
utter  makes  it  unnecessary  for  them  to  articulate  distinctly. 
As  they  hardly  condescend  to  open  their  lips,  many  retain 
throughout  life  an  imperfect  pronunciation  and  a  confused 
manner  of  speaking,  which  makes  them  nearly  unintelligible. 

Children  who  are  too  much  urged  to  speak  have  not  time 
sufficient  for  learning  either  to  pronounce  carefully  or  to 
understand  thoroughly  what  they  are  made  to  say.  If,  in- 
stead, they  are  left  to  themselves,  they  at  first  practise  using 
the  syllables  they  can  most  readily  utter ;  and  gradually 
attaching  to  these  some  meaning  that  can  be  gathered  from 
their  gestures,  they  give  you  their  own  words  before  acquir- 
ing yours.  Thus  they  receive  yours  only  after  they  under- 
stand them.  Not  being  urged  to  use  them,  they  notice 
carefully  what  meaning  you  give  them  ;  and,  when  they  are 
sure  of  this,  they  adopt  it  as  their  own. 

The  greatest  evil  arising  from  our  haste  to  make  children 
speak  before  they  are  old  enough  is  not  that  our  first  talks 
with  them,  and  the  first  words  they  use,  have  no  meaning 
to  them,  but  that  they  have  a  meaning  different  from  ours, 
without  our  being  able  to  perceive  it.    Thus,  while  they  seem 


i/ 


38  CONCERNING  EDUCATION. 

to  be  answering  us  very  correctly,  they  are  really  addressing 
us  without  understanding  us,  and  without  our  understanding 
them.  To  such  ambiguous  discourse  is  due  the  surprise  we 
sometimes  feel  at  their  sayings,  to  which  we  attach  ideas  the 
children  themselves  have  not  dreamed  of.  This  inattention 
of  ours  to  the  true  meaning  words  have  for  children  seems  to 
me  the  cause  of  their  first  mistakes,  and  these  errors,  even 
after  children  are  cured  of  them,  influence  their  turn  of  mind 
for  the  remainder  of  their  life. 

The  first  developments  of  childhood  occur  almost  all  at 
once.  The  child  learns  to  speak,  to  eat,  to  walk,  nearly  at 
the  same  time.  This  is,  properly,  the  first  epoch  of  his  life. 
Before  then  he  is  nothing  more  than  he  was  before  he  was 
born ;  he  has  not  a  sentiment,  not  an  idea  ;  he  scarcely  has 
sensations ;  he  does  not  feel  even  his  own  existence. 


Book  Secoi^d. 


The  second  book  takes  the  child  at  about  the  fifth  year,  and  con- 
ducts him  to  about  the  twelfth  year.    He  is  no  longer  the  little 
child;  he  is  the  young  boy.    His  education  becomes  more  impor-l     .X 
tant.    It  consists  not  in  studies,  in  reading  or  writing,  or  in  duties,! 
but  In  well-chosen  plays,  in  ingenious  recreations,  in  well-directe^ 
experiments. 

There  should  be  no  exaggerated  precautions,  and,  on  the  other 
hand,  no  harshness,  no  punishments.     We  must  love  the  child,  and 
encourage  his  playing.     To  make  him  realize  his  weakness  and  tin 
narrow  limits  within  which  it  can  work,  to  keep  the  child  depend 
ent  only  on  circumstances,  will  suffice,  without  ever  making  hir> 
feel  the  yoke  of  the  master. 

The  best  education  is  accomplished  in  the  country.  Teaching  ^  v 
means  of  things.  Criticism  of  the  ordinary  method.  Educa^ '  n 
of  the  senses  by  continually  exercising  them. 


Avoid  taking  too  many  Precautions. 

THIS  is  the  second  period  of  life,  and  the  one  at  which, 
properly  speaking,  infancy  ends ;  for  the  words  infans 
andpwer  are  not  synonymous. i  The  first  is  included  in  the 
second,  and  means  one  who  cannot  speak:  thus  in  Valerius 
Maximus  we  find  the  expression  puerum  infantem.  But  I 
shall  continue  to  employ  the  word  according  to  the  usage  of 
the  French  language,  until  I  am  describing  the  age  for  which 
there  are  other  names. 

1  Puer,  child;  infans,  one  who  does  not  speak. 


40  CONCEKNING   EDUCATION. 

When  children  begin  to  speak,  they  cry  less  often.  This 
step  in  advance  is  natural ;  one  language  is  substituted  for 
another.  As  soon  as  they  can  utter  their  complaints  in 
words,  why  should  they  cry,  unless  the  suffering  is  too  keen 
to  be  expressed  by  words  ?  If  they  then  continue  to  cry,  it 
is  the  fault  of  those  around  them.  After  fimile  has  once 
said,  "It  hurts  me,"  only  acute  suffering  can  force  him  to 
cry. 

If  the  child  is  physically'  so  delicate  and  sensitive  that  he 
naturally  cries  about  nothing,  I  will  soon  exhaust  the  foun- 
tain of  his  tears,  by  making  them  ineffectual.  So  long  as 
he  cries,  I  will  not  go  to  him ;  as  soon  as  he  stops,  I  will 
run  to  him.  Very  soon  his  method  of  calling  me  will  be  to 
keep  quiet,  or  at  the  utmost,  to  utter  a  single  cry.  Children 
judge  of  the  meaning  of  signs  by  their  palpable  effect ;  they 
have  no  other  rule.  Whatever  harm  a  child  may  do  himself, 
he  very  rarel}^  cries  when  alone,  unless  with  the  hope  of 
being  heard. 

If  he  fall,  if  he  bruise  his  head,  if  his  nose  bleed,  if  he 
cut  his  finger,  I  should,  instead  of  bustling  about  him  with 
a  look  of  alarm,  remain  quiet,  at  least  for  a  little  while. 
The  mischief  is  done ;  he  must  endure  it ;  all  my  anxiety 
wiU  only  ser^^e  to  frighten  him  more,  and  to  increase  his  sen- 
sitiveness. After  all,  when  we  hurt  ourselves,  it  is  less  the 
shock  which  pains  us  than  the  fright.  I  will  spare  him  at 
least  this  last  pang;  for  he  will  certainly  estimate  his  hurt 
as  he  sees  me  estimate  it.  If  he  sees  me  run  anxiously  to 
comfort  and  to  pity  him,  he  will  think  himself  seriously  hurt ; 
but  if  he  sees  me  keep  my  presence  of  mind,  he  will  soon 
recover  his  own,  and  will  think  the  pain  cured  when  he  no 
longer  feels  it.  At  his  age  we  learn  our  first  lessons  in  cour- 
age ;  and  by  fearlessly  enduring  lighter  sufferings,  we  grad- 
ually learn  to  bear  the  heavier  ones. 


AVOID  TAKING  TOO  MANY  PEECAUTIONS.  41 

Far  from  taking  care  that  Emile  does  not  hurt  himself,  I 
shall  be  dissatisfied  if  he  never  does,  and  so  grows  up  unac-  .  ^ 
quainted  with  pain.     To  suffer  is  the  first  and  most  neces-   .^_,y 
sary  thing  for  him  to  learn.     Children  are  little  and  weak,  ' 
apparently  that  they  may  learn  these  important  lessons.     If 
a  child  fall  his  whole  length,  he  will  not  break  his  leg  ;  if  he 
strike  himself  with  a  stick,  he  will  not  break  his  arm ;  if  he 
lay  hold  of  an  edged  tool,  he  does  not  grasp  it  tightly,  and 
will  not  cut  himself  very  badly. 

!  Our  pedantic  mania  for  instructing  constantly  leads  us  to 
teach  children  what  they  can  learn  far  better  for  themselves, 
and  to  lose  sight  of  what  we  alone  can  teach  them.  Is  there  - 
anything  more  absurd  than  the  pains  we  take  in  teaching 
them  to  walk?  As  if  we  had  ever  seen  one,  who,  through 
his  nurse's  negligence,  did  not  know  how  to  walk  when 
grown  !  On  the  contrary,  how  many  people  do  we  see  mov- 
ing awkwardl}^  all  theu'  lives  because  they  have  been  badly 
taught  how  to  walk  ! 

\  £mile  shall  have  no  head-protectors,  nor  carriages,  nor  go- 
carts,  nor  leading-strings.     Or  at  least  from  the  time  when 
he  begins  to  be  able  to  put  one  foot  before  the  other,  he 
shall  not  be  supported,  except  over  paved  places ;  and  he 
shall  be  hurried  over  these.     Instead  of  letting  him  suffocate 
m  the  exhausted  air  indoors,  let  him  be  taken  every  day,  far 
out  into  the  fields.     There  let  him  run  about,  play,  fall  down 
a  hundred  times  a  day ;  the  oftener  the  better,  as  he  will  the 
sooner  learn  to  get  up  again  by  himself.     The  boon  of  free^  I 
dom  is  worth  many  scars.     My  pupil  will  have  many  bruises,  j 
but  to  make  amends  for  that,  he  will  be  always  light-hearted. 
Though  your  pupils  are  less  often  hurt,  they  are  continually 
thwarted,   fettered;    they   are   always   unhappy.     I  doubt 
whether  the  advantage  be  on  their  side..  \ 
The  development  of  their  physical  strength  makes  com- 


42  CONCERNING  EDUCATION. 

plaint  less  necessary  to  children.  When  able  to  help  them- 
selves, they  have  less  need  of  the  help  of  others.  Knowledge 
to  direct  their  strength  grows  with  that  strength.  At  this 
second  stage  the  life  of  the  individual  properly  begins ;  he 
now  becomes  conscious  of  his  own  being.  Memory  extends 
this  feeling  of  personal  identity  to  every  moment  of  his  ex- 
istence ;  he  becomes  really  one,  the  same  one,  and  conse- 
quently capable  of  happiness  or  of  misery.  We  must  there- 
fore, from  this  moment,  begin  to  regard  him  as  a  moral 
being. 


Childhood  is  to  be  Loved. 

Although  the  longest  term  of  human  life,  and  the  proba- 
bility, at  any  given  age,  of  reaching  this  term,  have  been 
computed,  nothing  is  more  uncertain  than  the  continuance  of 
each  individual  life :  very  few   attain   the    maximum.     The 
greatest  risks  in  life  are  at  its  beginning ;  the  less  one  has 
lived,  the  less  prospect  he  has  of  living. 
|75f  all  children  born,  only  about  half  reach  youth ;  and  it 
is  probable  that  your  pupil  may  never  attain  to  manhood. 
I  What,  then,  must  be  thought  of   that  barbarous  education 
^J   which  sacrifices  the  present  to  an  uncertain  future,  loads  the 
/|  child  with  every  description  of  fetters,  and  begins,  by  mak- 
I    ing  him  wretched,  to  prepare  for  him  some  far-awa}'  indefi- 
r  nite  happiness  he  may  never  enjoy !     Even  supposing  the 
object  of  such  an  education  reasonable,  how  can  we  without 
indignation  see  the  unfortunate  creatures  bowed  under  an 
insupportable  yoke,  doomed  to  constant  labor  like  so  many 
galley-slaves,  without  any  certainty  that  all  this  toil  will  ever 
be  of  use  to  them  !     The  years  that  ought  to  be  bright  and 
cheerful  are  passed  in  tears  amid  punishments,  threats,  and 
slavery.     For  his  own  good,  the  unhappy  child  is  tortured ; 


i 


CHILDHOOD   IS   TO  BE  LOVED.  43 

and  the  death  thus  summoned  will  seize  on  him  unperceived 
amidst  all  this  melancholy  preparation.  Who  knows  how 
many  children  die  on  account  of  the  extravagant  prudence  of 
a  father  or  of  a  teacher?  Happy  in  escaping  his  cruelty,  it 
gives  them  one  advantage ;  they  leave  without  regrfet  a  life 
which  they  know  only  from  its  darker  side  A 
i  O  men,  be  humane !  it  is  your  highest  duty ;  be  humane 
to  all  conditions  of  men,  to  every  age,  to  everything  not 
alien  to  mankind.  What  higher  wisdom  is  there  for  you"1 
than  humanity  ?  Love  childhood ;  encourage  its  sports,  its  ^ 
pleasures,  its  lovable  instincts.  Who  among  us  has  not  at 
times  looked  back  with  regret  to  the  age  when  a  smile  was 
continually  on  our  lips,  when  the  soul  was  always  at  peace  ? 
Why  should  we  rob  these  little  innocent  creatures  of  the 
enjoyment  of  a  time  so  brief,  so  transient,  of  a  boon  so 
precious,  which  they  cannot  misuse  ?  Why  will  you  fill  with 
bitterness  and  sorrow  these  fleeting  years  which  can  no  more 
return  to  them  than  to  you  ?  Do  you  know,  you  fathers,  the 
moment  when  death  awaits  your  children  ?  Do  not  store  up 
for  yourselves  remorse,  by  taking  from  them  the  brief 
moments  nature  has  given  them.  As  soon  as  they  can 
appreciate  the  delights  of  existence,  let  them  enjoy  it.  At 
whatever  hour  God  may  call  them,  let  them  not  die  without 
having  tasted  life  at  all.  j 

You  answer,  "It  is  the  time  to  correct  the  evil  tendencies 
of  the  human  heart.  In  childhood,  when  sufferings  are  less 
keenly  felt,  they  ought  to  be  multiplied,  so  that  fewer  of 


1  Reading  these  lines,  we  are  reminded  of  the  admirable  works  of  Dick- 
ens, the  celebrated  English  novelist,  who  so  touchingly  depicts  the  suffer- 
ings of  children  made  unhappy  by  the  inhumanity  of  teachers,  or  neglected 
as  to  their  need  of  free  air,  of  liberty,  of  affection  :  David  Copperfield, 
Hard  Times,  Nicholas  Nickleby,  Dombey  and  Son,  Oliver  Twist,  Little  Dor- 
<fit.  and  the  like. 


44  CONCERNING   EDUCATION. 

them  will  have  to  be  encountered  during  the  age  of  reason.** 
But  who  has  told  you  that  it  is  your  province  to  make  this 
arrangement,  and  that  all  these  fine  instructions,  with  which 
you  burden  the  tender  mind  of  a  child,  will  not  one  day  be 
more  pernicious  than  useful  to  him  ?  Who  assures  you  that 
you  spare  him  anything  when  you  deal  him  afflictions  with 
so  lavish  a  hand  ?  Why  do  you  cause  him  more  unhappiness 
than  he  can  bear,  when  3'ou  are  not  sure  that  the  future  will 
compensate  him  for  these  present  evils  ?  And  how  can  you 
prove  that  the  evil  tendencies  of  which  you  pretend  to  cure 

'  him  will  not  arise  from  your  mistaken  care  rather  than  from 
nature  itself  !  Unhappy  foresight,  which  renders  a  creature 
actually  miserable,  in  the  hope,  well  or  ill  founded,  of  one 
day  making  him  happy  !  If  these  vulgar  reasoners  confound 
license  with  liberty,  and  mistake  a  spoiled  child  for  a  child 
who  is  made  happy,  let  us  teach  them  to  distinguish  the  two. 

I    '  To  avoid  being  misled,  let  us  remember  what  really  ac- 

I  cords  with  our  present  abilities.  Humanity  has  its  place  in 
the  general  order  of  things  ;  childhood  has  its  place  in  the 
order  of  human  life.  Mankind  must  be  considered  in  the 
individual  man,  and  childhood  in  the  individual  child.  To 
assign  each  his  place,  and  to  establish  him  in  it  —  to  direct 
human  passions  as  human  nature  will  peimit  —  is  all  we  can 

j  do  for  his  welfare.     The  rest  depends  on  outside  influences 

a  not  under  our  control. 

Neither  Slaves  nor  Tyrants. 

He  alone  has  his  own  way  who,  to  compass  it,  does  not 
need  the  arm  of  another  to  lengthen  his  own.  Consequently 
freedom,  and  not  authority,  is  the  greatest  good.  A  man 
who  desires  only  what  he  can  do  for  himself  is  really  free  to 
do  whatever  he  pleases.     From  this  axiom,  if  it  be  applied 


NEITHER   SLAVES  NOR  TYRANTS.  45 

to  the   case  of  childhood,   all  the   rules  of  education  will 
follow. 

A  wise  man  understands  how  to  remain  in  his  own  place ; 
but  a  child,  who  does  not  know  his,  cannot  preserve  it.  A& 
matters  stand,  there  are  a  thousand  ways  of  leaving  it. 
Those  who  govern  him  are  to  keep  him  in  it,  and  this  is  not 
an  easy  task.  He  ought  to  be  neither  an  animal  nor  a  man, 
but  a  child.  He  should  feel  his  weakness,  and  yet  not  suffer 
from  it.  He  should  depend,  not  obey ;  he  should  demand, 
not  command.  He  is  subject  to  others  only  by  reason  of  his 
needs,  and  because  others  see  better  than  he  what  is  useful 
to  him,  what  will  contribute  to  his  well-being  or  will  impair 
it.  No  one,  not  even  his  father,  has  a  right  to  command  a 
child  to  do  what  is  of  no  use  to  him  whatever. 

Accustom  the  child  to  depend  only  on  circumstances,  and 
as  his  education  goes  on,  you  will  follow  the  order  of  nature. 
Never  oppose  to  his  imprudent  wishes  anything  but  physical 
obstacles,  or  punishments  which  arise  from  the  actions  them- 
selves, and  which  he  will  remember  when  the  occasion  comes. 
It  is  enough  to  prevent  his  doing  harm,  without  forbidding  it.i 
With  him  only  experience,  or  want  of  power,  should  take 
the  place  of  law.  Do  not  give  him  anything  because  hei 
asks  for  it,  but  because  he  needs  it.  When  he  acts,  do  not 
let  him  know  that  it  is  from  obedience ;  and  when  another 
acts  for  him,  let  him  not  feel  that  he  is  exercising  authorit3\ 
Let  him  feel  his  liberty  as  much  in  your  actions  as  in  his 
own.  Add  to  the  power  he  lacks  exactly  enough  to  make 
him  free  and  not  imperious,  so  that,  accepting  your  aid  with 
a  kind  of  humiliation,  he  may  aspire  to  the  moment  when  he 
can  dispense  with  it,  and  have  the  honor  of  serving  himself. 
For  strengthening  the  body  and  promoting  its  growth,  nature 
has  means  which  ought  never  to  be  thwarted.  A  child  ought 
not  to  be  constrained  to  stay  anywhere  when  he  wishes  to  go 


46  CONCERNING  EDUCATION. 

away,  or  to  go  away  when  he  wishes  to  stay.  When  their 
^ill  is  not  spoiled  b}^  our  own  fault,  children  do  not  wish  for 
\  anything  without  good  reason.  They  ought  to  leap,  to  run, 
to  shout,  whenever  they  will.  All  their  movements  are  ne- 
cessities of  nature,  which  is  endeavoring  to  strengthen  itself. 
But  we  must  take  heed  of  those  wishes  they  cannot  them- 
selves accomplish,  but  must  fulfil  by  the  hand  of  another. 
Therefore  care  should  be  taken  to  distinguish  the  real  wants, 
the  wants  of  nature,  from  those  which  arise  from  fancy  or 
from  the  redundant  life  just  mentioned. 

I  have  already  suggested  what  should  be  done  when  a 
child  cries  for  anything.  I  will  only  add  that,  as  soon  as  he 
can  ask  in  words  for  what  he  wants,  and,  to  obtain  it  sooner, 
or  to  overcome  a  refusal,  reinforces  his  request  by  crying,  it 
should  never  be  granted  him.  If  necessity  has  made  him 
speak,  you  ought  to  know  it,  and  at  once  to  grant  what  he 
demands.  But  yielding  to  his  tears  is  encouraging  him  to 
shed  them ;  it  teaches  him  to  doubt  your  good  will,  and  to 
believe  that  importunity  has  more  Influence  over  you  than 
your  own  kindness  of  heart  has. 

If  he  does  not  believe  you  good,  he  will  soon  be  bad ;  If 
he  believes  you  weak,  he  will  soon  be  stubborn.  It  is  of 
great  importance  that  you  at  once  consent  to  what  you  do 
not  intend  to  refuse  him.  Do  not  refuse  often,  but  never 
revoke  a  refusal. 

Above  all  thingi^a^eware  of  teaching  the  ohild  pTTintiy  iS&r- 
^^ulas  of  politeness  jyhich  shall  serve  him  instead  of  magic 
words  to  subject  to  his  own  wishes  all  who  surround  him, 
and  to  obtain  instantly  what  he  likes.  In  the  artificial  edu- 
cation of  the  rich  they  are  infallibly  made  politely  imperious, 
by  having  prescribed  to  them  what  terms  to  use  so  that  no 
one  shall  dare  resist  them.  Such  children  have  neither  the 
tones  nor  the  speech  of  suppliants ;  they  are  as  arrogant 


NEITHER   SLAVES   NOR   TYRANTS.  47 

when  they  request  as  when  they  command,  and  even  more 
so,  for  in  the  former  case  they  are  more  sure  of  being  obeyed. 
From  the  first  it  is  readily  seen  that,  coming  from  them,  *'  If 
you  please"  means  "It  pleases  me";  and  that  "I  beg" 
signifies  "  I  order  you."  Singular  politeness  this,  by  which 
they  only  change  the  meaning  of  words,  and  so  never  speak 
but  with  authority  !  For  myself,  I  dread  far  less  ^fimile's 
being  rude  than  his  being  arrogant.  I  would  rather  have 
him  say  "Do  this"  as  if  requesting  than  "I  beg  you"  as 
if  commanding.  I  attach  far  less  importance  to  the  term  he 
uses  than  to  the  meaning  he  associates  with  it. 
w  (iv<^p-ptric^.ness  and  over-indulgence  are  egnaHy  to  hi> 
avoided.  If  you  let  children  suffer,  you  endanger  their 
health  and  their  life  ;  you  make  them  actually  wretched.  If 
you  carefully  spare  them  every  kind  of  annoyance,  you  are 
storing  up  for  them  much  unhappiness ;  you  are  making 
them  delicate  and  sensitive  to  pain  ;  you  are  removing  them'] 
from  the  common  lot  of  man,  into  which,  in  spite  of  alM 
your  care,  they  will  one  day  return.  To  save  them  some 
natural  discomforts,  you  contrive  for  them  others  which 
nature  has  not  inflicted. 

You  will  charge  me  with  falling  into  the  mistake  of  those 
fathers  I  have  reproached  for  sacrificing  their  children's  hap- 
piness to  considerations  of  a  far-away  future  that  may  never 
be.  Not  so ;  for  the  freedom  I  give  my  pupil  will  amply 
supply  him  with  the  slight  discomforts  to  which  I  leave  him 
exposed.  I  see  the  little  rogues  playing  in  the  snow,  blue 
with  cold,  and  scarcely  able  to  move  their  fingers.  Thej^ 
have  only  to  go  and  warm  themselves,  but  they  do  nothing 
of  the  kind.  If  they  are  compelled  to  do  so,  they  feel  the 
constraint  a  hundred  times  more  than  they  do  the  cold.  Why 
then  do  you  complain  ?  Shall  I  make  your  child  unhappy  if 
I  expose  him  only  to  those  inconveniences  he  is  perfectly 


48  CONCERNING  EDUCATION. 

willing  to  endure  ?  By  leaving  him  at  liberty,  I  do  him  serv 
vice  now ;  by  arming  him  against  the  ills  he  must  encounter, 
I  do  him  service  for  the  time  to  come.  If  he  could  choose 
between  being  m}^  pupil  or  yours,  do  you  think  he  would 
hesitate  a  moment? 

Can  we  conceive  of  any  creature's  being  truly  happy  out- 
side of  what  belongs  to  its  own  peculiar  nature  ?  And  if  we 
would  have  a  man  exempt  from  all  human  misfortunes,  would 
it  not  estrange  him  from  humanity  ?  Undoubtedly  it  would  ; 
^/  for  we  are  so  constituted  that  to  appreciate  great  good  fortune 
we  must  be  acquainted  with  slight  misfortunes.  If  the  body 
be  too  much  at  ease  the  moral  nature  becomes  corrupted. 
The  man  unacquainted  with  suffering  would  not  know  the 
tender  feelings  of  humanity  or  the  sweetness  of  compassion  ; 
he  would  not  be  a  social  being ;  he  would  be  a  monster 
among  his  kind. 

g'^cSfaa-surest  way  to  make  a  child  unhappy  is  to  accustom 
,^  him  to  obtain  ever}^ thing  he  wants  to  have.  For,  since  his 
wishes  multiply  in  proportion  to  the  ease  with  which  they  are 
gratified,  your  inability  to  fulfil  them  will  sooner  or  later 
oblige  you  to  refuse  in  spite  of  yourself,  and  this  unwonted 
refusal  will  pain  him  more  than  withholding  from  him  what 
he  demands.  At  first  he  will  want  the  cane  you  hold  ;  soon 
he  will  want  your  watch  ;  afterward  he  will  want  the  bird  he 
sees  flying,  or  the  star  he  sees  shining.  He  will  want  every- 
thing he  sees,  and  without  being  God  himself  how  can  you 
content  him  ? 

-^  Man  is  naturally  disposed  to  regard  as  his  own  wha,t§Yfir  is 

-v^,.         within  his  power.     In  this  sense  the  principle  of  Hobbes  is 
correct  up  to  a  certain  point ;  multiply  with  our  desires  the 


\ 


means  of  satisfying  them,  and  each  of  us  will  make  himself 
master  of  everything.  Hence  the  child  who  has  only  to  wish 
In  order  to  obtain  his  wish,  thinks  himself  the  owner  of  the 


NEITHER   SLAVES  NOR  TYRANTS.  49 

aniverse.  He  regards  all  men  as  his  slaves,  and  when  at  last 
he  must  be  denied  something,  he,  believing  everything  possi- 
ble when  he  commands  it,  takes  refusal  for  an  act  of  rebellion,  y 
At  his  age,  incapable  of  reasoning,  all  reasons  given  seem  to 
him  only  pretexts.  He  sees  ill-will  in  everything  ;  the  feeling 
of  imagined  injustice  embitters  his  temper  ;  he  begins  to  hate 
everybody,  and  without  ever  being  thankful  for  kindness,  is 
angry  at  any  opposition  whatever. 

Who  supposes  that  a  child  thus  ruled  by  anger,  a  prey  to 
furious  passions,  can  ever  be  happy?  He  happy?  He  is  a 
tyrant ;  that  is,  the  vilest  of  slaves,  and  at  the  same  time  the 
most  miserable  of  beings.  I  have  seen  children  thus  reared 
who  wanted  those  about  them  to  push  the  house  down,  to  give 
them  the  weathercock  they  saw  on  a  steeple,  to  stop  the 
march  of  a  regiment  so  that  they  could  enjoy  the  drum-beat 
a  little  longer ;  and  as  soon  as  obedience  to  these  demands 
was  delayed  they  rent  the  air  with  their  screams,  and  would 
listen  to  no  one.  In  vain  everybody  tried  eagerly  to  gratify 
them.  The  ease  with  which  they  found  their  wishes  obeyed 
stimulated  them  to  desire  more,  and  to  be  stubborn  about 
impossibilities.  Everywhere  they  found  only  contradictions, 
impediments,  suffering,  and  sorrow.  Always  complaining, 
always  refractory,  always  angry,  they  spent  the  time  in 
crying  and  fretting  ;  were  these  creatures  happy  ?  Authority 
and  weakness  conjoined  produce  only  madness  and  wretched- 
ness. One  of  two  spoiled  children  beats  the  table,  and  the 
other  has  the  sea  lashed.^  They  will  have  much  to  beat  and 
to  lash  before  they  are  satisfied  with  life. 


1  Here  he  means  Xerxes,  King  of  Persia,  who  had  built  an  immens* 
bridge  of  boats  over  the  Hellespont  to  transport  his  army  from  Asia  into 
Europe.  A  storm  having  destroyed  this  bridge,  the  all-powerful  monarch, 
furious  at  the  insubordination  of  the  elements,  ordered  chaiRS  to  be  cast 
mto  the  sea,  and  had  the  rebellious  waves  beaten  with  rods, 


50  CONCERNING  EDUCATION. 

If  these  ideas  of  authority  and  of  tyranny  make  them 
unhappy  from  their  very  childhood,  how  will  it  be  with  them 
when  they  are  grown,  and  when  their  relations  with  others 
begin  to  be  extended  and  multiplied  ? 

Accustomed  to  seeing  everything  give  waj^  before  them, 
how  surprised  they  will  be  on  entering  the  world  to  find 
themselves  crushed  beneath  the  weight  of  that  universe  they 
have  expected  to  move  at  their  own  pleasure  !  Their  insolent 
airs  and  childish  vanity  will  only  bring  upon  them  mortifica- 
tion, contempt,  and  ridicule  ;  they  must  swallow  affront  after 
affront ;  cruel  trials  will  teach  them  that  they  understand 
neither  their  own  position  nor  their  own  strength.  Unable  to 
do  everything,  they  will  think  themselves  unable  to  do  any- 
thing. So  many  unusual  obstacles  dishearten  them,  so  much 
contempt  degrades  them.  They  become  base,  cowardly, 
cringing,  and  sink  as  far  below  their  real  self  as  they  had 
imagined  themselves  above  it. 

Let  us  return  to  the  original  order  of  things.  Nature  has 
made  children  to  be  loved  and  helped ;  has  she  made  them  to 
be  obeyed  and  feared  ?  Has  she  given  them  an  imposing  air, 
a  stem  eye,  a  harsh  and  threatening  voice,  so  that  they  may 
inspire  fear  ?  I  can  understand  why  the  roar  of  a  lion  fills 
other  creatures  with  dread,  and  why  they  tremble  at  sight  of 
his  terrible  countenance.  But  if  ever  there  were  an  unbecom- 
ing, hateful,  ridiculous  spectacle,  it  is  that  of  a  body  of  mag- 
istrates in  their  robes  of  ceremonj' ,  and  headed  by  their  chief, 
prostrate  before  an  infant  in  long  clothes,  who  to  their  pompous 
harangue  replies  only  by  screams  or  by  childish  drivel !  ^ 

1  The  feeling  of  a  republican,  of  the  "  citizen  of  Gen^iva,"  justly  shocked 
by  monarchial  superstitions.  Louis  XIV.  and  Louis  XV.  had  had,  in  fact, 
from  the  days  of  their  first  playthings,  the  degrading  spectacle  of  a  univer- 
sal servility  prostrated  before  their  cradle.  The  sentiment  here  uttered 
\ras  still  uncommon  and  almost  unknown  when  Rousseau  wrote  it.  He  did 
much  toward  creating  it  and  making  it  popular. 


KEITHER   SLAVES  NOR  TYRANTS.  51 

Considering  infancy  in  itself,  is  there  a  creature  on  earth 
more  helpless,  more  unhappy,  more  at  the  mercy  of  every- 
thing around  him,  more  in  need  of  compassion,  of  care,  of 
protection,  than  a  child?  Does  it  not  seem  as  if  his  sweet 
face  and  touching  aspect  were  intended  to  interest  every  one 
who  comes  near  him,  and  to  urge  them  to  assist  his  weakness? 
What  then  is  more  outrageous,  more  contrary  to  the  fitness  of 
things,  than  to  see  an  imperious  and  headstrong  child  order- 
ing about  those  around  him,  impudently  taking  the  tone  of  a 
master  toward  those  who,  to  destroy  him,  need  only  leave 
him  to  himself! 

On  the  other  hand,  who  does  not  see  that  since  the  weak- 
ness of  infancy  fetters  children  in  so  many  ways,  we  are 
barbarous  if  we  add  to  this  natural  subjection  a  bondage  to 
our  own  caprices  b}^  taking  from  them  the  limited  freedom 
they  have,  a  freedom  they  are  so  little  able  to  misuse,  and 
from  the  loss  of  which  we  and  they  have  so  little  to  gain? 
As  nothing  is  more  ridiculous  than  a  haughty  child,  so  noth' 
ing  is  more  pitiable  than  a  cowardly  child. 

Since  with  j^ears  of  reason  civil  bondage  ^   begins,  why-f>^ 
anticipate  it  b}^  slavery  at  home?     Let  us  leave  one  moment  lU 
of  life  exempt  from  a  yoke  nature  has  not  laid  upon  us,  and  j  I, 
allow  childhood  the  exercise  of  that  natural  liberty  which  | 
keeps  it  safe,  at  least  for  a  time,  from  the  vices  taught  by 
slavery.     Let  the  over-strict  teacher  and  the  over-indulgent 
parent  both  come  with  their  empty  cavils,  and  before  they 
boast  of  their  own  methods  let  them  learn  the  method  of 
Nature  herself. 

1  Civil  bondage,  as  understood  by  Rousseau,  consists  in  the  laws  and 
obligations  of  civilized  life  itself.  He  extols  the  state  of  nature  as  the  ideal 
condition,  the  condition  of  perfect  freedom,  without  seeing  that,  on  the 
contrary,  true  liberty  cannot  exist  without  the  protection  of  laws,  while  the 
state  of  nature  is  only  the  enslavement  of  the  weak  by  the  strong  —  the 
triumph  of  brute  force. 


52  CONCERNING  EDUCATION. 


Beasoning  should  not  begin  too  soon. 

Lockers  great  maxim  was  that  we  ought  to  reason  with 
children,  and  just  now  this  maxim  is  much  in  fashion.  I 
think,  however,  that  its  success  does  not  warrant  its  reputa- 
tion, and  I  find  nothing  more  stupid  than  children  who  have 
been  so  much  reasoned  with.  Reason,  apparently  a  com- 
pound of  all  other  faculties,  the  one  latest  developed,  and 
.,  with  most  difficulty,  is  the  one  proposed  as  agent  in  unfolding 
the  faculties  earliest  used !  The  noblest  work  of  education 
is  to  make  a  reasoning  man,  and  we  expect  to  train  a  young 
child  by  making  him  reason  !  This  is  beginning  at  the  end ; 
N.  this  is  making  an  instrument  of  a  result.  If  children  under- 
stood how  to  reason  they  would  not  need  to  be  educated. 
But  by  addressing  them  from  their  tenderest  years  in  a 
language  they  cannot  understand,  you  accustom  them  to  be 
satisfied  with  words,  to  find  fault  with  whatever  is  said  to 
them,  to  think  themselves  as  wise  as  their  teachers,  to  wrangle 
and  rebel.  And  what  we  mean  they  shall  do  from  reasonable 
motives  we  are  forced  to  obtain  from  them  by  adding  the 
motive  of  avarice,  or  of  fear,  or  of  vanity. 

Nature  intends  that  children  shall  be  children  before  they 
are  men.  If  we  insist  on  reversing  this  order  we  shall  have 
fruit  early  indeed,  but  unripe  and  tasteless,  and  liable  to 
early  decay ;  we  shall  have  young  savants  and  old  children. 
Childhood  has  its  own  methods  of  seeing,  thinking,  and 
feeling.  Nothing  shows  less  sense  than  to  try  to  substiWte 
our  own  methods  for  these.  I  would  rather  require  a  child 
ten  years  old  to  be  five  feet  tall  than  to  be  judicious.  Indeed, 
what  use  would  he  have  at  that  age  for  the  power  to  reason? 
It  is  a  check  upon  physical  strength,  and  the  child  needs 
none. 


REASONING  SHOULD  NOT  BEGIN  TOO  SOON.    53 

In  attempting  to  persuade  j-our  pupils  to  obedience  you 
add  to  this  alleged  persuasion  force  and  threats,  or  worse 
still,  flattery  and  promises.  Bought  over  in  this  way  by 
interest,  or  constrained  by  force,  the}^  pretend  to  be  convinced 
by  reason.  They  see  plainly  that  as  soon  as  you  discover 
obedience  or  disobedience  in  their  conduct,  the  former  is  an 
advantage  and  the  latter  a  disadvantage  to  them.  But  you 
ask  of  them  only  what  is  distasteful  to  them ;  it  is  always 
irksome  to  carry  out  the  wishes  of  another,  so  by  stealth  they 
carry  out  their  own.  They  are  sure  that  if  their  disobedience 
is  not  known  they  are  doing  well ;  but  they  are  ready,  for 
fear  of  greater  evils,  to  acknowledge,  if  found  out,  that  they 
are  doing  wrong.  As  the  reason  for  the  duty  required  is 
beyond  their  capacity,  no  one  can  make  them  really  under- 
stand it.  But  the  fear  of  punishment,  the  hope  of  forgive- 
ness, your  importunity,  their  difficulty  in  answering  you, 
extort  from  them  the  confession  required  of  them.  You  think 
you  have  convinced  them,  when  you  have  only  wearied  them 
out  or  intimidated  them. 

What  results  from  this?  First  of  all  that,  by  imposing 
\#  upon  them  a  duty  they  do  not  feel  as  such,  you  set  them 
against  your  tyranny,  and  dissuade  them  from  loving  you ;  j^ 
you  teach  them  to  be  dissemblers,  deceitful,  willfully  untrue, 
for  the  sake  of  extorting  rewards  or  of  escaping  punishments. 
Finally,  by  habituating  them  to  cover  a  secret  motive  by  an 
apparent  motive,  you  give  them  the  means  of  constantly 
misleading  you,  of  concealing  their  true  character  from  you, 
and  of  satisfying  yourself  and  others  with  empty  words  when 
their  occasion  demands.  You  may  say  that  the  law,  although 
binding  on  the  conscience,  uses  constraint  in  dealing  with 
grown  men.  I  grant  it ;  but  what  are  these  men  but  children 
spoiled  by  their  education  ?  This  is  precisely  what  ought  to 
be  prevented.     With  children  use  force,  with  men  reason ; 


54:  CONCERNING  EDUCATION. 

such  is  the  natural  order  of  things.  The  wise  man  requires 
no  laws. 

"Well-Regulated  Liberty. 

Treat  your  pupil  as  his  age  demands.  From  the  first,  as- 
sign him  to  his  true  place,  and  keep  him  there  so  effectually 
that  he  will  not  try  to  leave  it.     Then,  without  knowing  what 

\wfsdom  is,  he  will  practise  its  most  important  lesson. 
Never,  absolutely  never,  command  him  to  do  a  thing,  what- 
ever it  may  be.^  Do  not  let  him  even  imagine  that  you 
claim  any  authority  over  him.  Let  him  know  only  that  he 
\  U  weak   and  you  are  strong :   that  from  his  condition  and 

yours  he  is  necessarily  at  your  mercy.  Let  him  know  this  — 
learn  it  and  feel  it.  Let  him  early  know  that  upon  his 
haughty  neck  is  the  stern  yoke  nature  imposes  upon  man, 
the  heav}'  yoke  of  necessity,  under  which  every  finite  being 
.    J    must  toil. 

'  Let  him  discover  this  necessity  m  the  nature  of  thmgs ; 

never  in  human  caprice.  Let  the  rein  that  holds  him  back 
be  power,  not  authority.  Do  not  forbid,  but  prevent,  his 
doing  what  he  ought  not ;  and  in  thus  preventing  him  use  no 
explanations,  give  no  reasons.  What  you  grant  him,  grant 
at  the  first  asking  without  any  urging,  any  entreaty  from 
him,  and  above  all  without  conditions.  Consent  with  pleas- 
ure and  refuse  unwillingly,  but  let  every  refusal  be  irrevo- 
cable.    Let  no  importunity  move  you.     Let  the  ''  No  "  once 

1  In  this  unconditional  form  the  principle  is  inadmissible.  Any  one  who 
has  the  rearing  of  children  knows  this.  But  the  idea  underlying  the  para- 
dox ought  to  be  recognized,  for  it  is  a  just  one.  We  ought  not  to  command 
merely  for  the  pleasure  of  commanding,  but  solely  to  interpret  to  the  child 
the  requirements  of  the  case  in  hand.  To  command  him  for  the  sake  of 
commanding  is  an  abuse  of  power:  it  is  a  baseness  which  will  end  in  disas- 
ter. On  the  other  hand,  we  cannot  leave  it  to  circumstances  to  forbid  what 
ought  not  to  be  done.  Only,  the  command  should  be  intelligible,  reason- 
able,  and  unyielding.    This  is  really  what  Rousseau  means.' 


r 

WELL-REGULATED   LIBERTY.  65 

uttered  be  a  wall  of  brass  against  which  the  child  will  have 
to  exhaust  his  strength  only  five  or  six  times  before  he  ceases 
trying  to  overturn  it. 

In  this  way  you  will  make  him  patient,  even-tempered,  re- 
signed, gentle,  even  when  he  has  not  what  he  wants.  For  it 
is  in  our  nature  to  endure  patiently  the  decrees  of  fate,  but 
not  the  ill-will  of  others.  "There  is  no  more,"  is  an  answer 
against  which  no  child  ever  rebelled  unless  he  believed  it 
untrue.  Besides,  there  is  no  other  way ;  either  nothing  at 
all  is  to  be  required  of  him,  or  he  must  from  the  first  be 
accustomed  to  perfect  obedience.  The  worst  training  of  all 
is  to  leave  him  wavering  between  his  own  will  and  yours, 
and  to  dispute  incessantly  with  him  as  to  which  shall  be 
master.  I  should  a  hundred  times  prefer  his  being  master 
in  every  case. 

It  is  marvellous  that  in  undertaking  to  educate  a  child  no 
other  means  of  guiding  him  should  have  been  devised  than 
emulation,  jealousy,  envy,  vanity,  greed,  vile  fear,  —  all  of 
them  passions  most  dangerous,  readiest  to  ferment,  fittest  to 
corrupt  a  soul,  even  before  the  body  is  full-grown.  For  each  , 
instruction  too  earl}'  put  into  a  child's  head,  a  vice  is  deeply- 
implanted  in  his  heart.  Foolish  teachers  think  they  are 
doing  wonders  when  they  make  a  child  wicked,  in  order  to 
teach  him  what  goodness  is ;  and  then  they  gravely  tell  us 
"  Such  is  man."     Yes ;  such  is  the  man  you  have  made. 

All  means  have  been  tried  save  one,  and  that  the  very  one 
which  insures  success,  namely,  well-regulated  freedom.  We 
ought  not  to  undertake  a  child's  education  unless  we  know 
how  to  lead  him  wherever  we  please  solel}^  by  the  laws  of  the 
possible  and  the  impossible.  The  sphere  of  both  being  alike 
unknown  to  him,  we  may  extend  or  contract  it  around  him  as 
we  will.  We  may  bind  him  down,  incite  him  to  action,  re- 
strain him  by  the  leash  of  necessity  alone,  and  he  will  not 


66  CONCERNING   EDUCATION. 

murmur.  "We  may  render  him  pliant  and  teachable  by  the 
force  of  circumstances  alone,  without  giving  an}-  vice  an 
opportunity  to  take  root  within  him.  For  the  passions 
never  awake  to  life,  so  long  as  they  are  of  no  avail. 

Do  not  give  your  pupil  any  sort  of  lesson  verbally :  he 
ought  to  receive  none  except  from  experience.  Inflict  upon 
him  no  kind  of  punishment,  for  he  does  not  know  what  being 
in  fault  means ;  never  oblige  him  to  ask  pardon,  for  he  does 
not  know  what  it  is  to  offend  you. 

His  actions  being  without  moral  quality,  he  can  do  nothing 
which  is  morally  bad,  or  which  deserves  either  punishment  or 
J  J-eproof.^ 

Already  I  see  the  startled  reader  judging  of  this  child  by 
those  around  us ;  but  he  is  mistaken.  The  perpetual  con- 
straint under  which  you  keep  your  pupils  increases  their 
liveliness.  The  more  cramped  the}^  are  while  under  your  eye 
the  more  unruly  they  are  the  moment  they  escape  it.  They 
must,  in  fact,  make  themselves  amends  for  the  severe  re- 
straint you  put  upon  them.  Two  school-boys  from  a  city 
will  do  more  mischief  in  a  community  than  the  young  people 
of  a  whole  village. 
s^  Shut  up  in  the  same  room  a  little  gentleman  and  a  little 
peasant ;  the  former  will  have  everj^thing  upset  and  broken 
before  the  latter  has  moved  from  his  place.  Why  is  this? 
Because  the  one  hastens  to  misuse  a  moment  of  liberty,  and 
the  other,  alwaj'S  sure  of  his  freedom,  is  never  in  a  hurry  to 
use  it.     And  yet  the  children  of  villagers,  often  petted  or 

iThis  is  not  strictly  true.  The  child  early  has  the  consciousness  of  right 
and  wrong;  and  if  it  be  true  that  neither  chastisement  nor  reproof  is  to  be 
abused,  it  is  no  less  certain  that  conscience  is  early  awake  within  him,  and 
that  it  ought  not  to  be  neglected  in  a  work  so  delicate  as  that  of  education : 
on  condition,  be  it  understood,  that  we  act  with  simplicity,  without  pedan- 
try, and  that  we  employ  example  more  than  lectures.  Rousseau  says  this 
admirably  a  few  pages  farther  on. 


PROCEED   SLOWLY.  67 

thwarted,  are  still  very  far  from  the  condition  in  which  I 
should  wish  to  keep  them. 


Proceed  Slowly. 


FmI 


\f  May  I  venture  to  state  here  the  greatest,  the  most  impor- 
1  jtant,  the  most  useful  rule  in  all  education  ?  It  is,  not  to 
/  Igain  time,  but  to  lose  it.  Forgive  the  paradox,  O  my  ordi- 
nary reader !  It  must  be  uttered  by  any  one  who  reflects, 
and  whatever  you  may  say,  I  prefer  paradoxes  to  prejudices. 
The  most  perilous  interval  of  human  life  is  that  between  birth 
and  the  age  of  twelve  years.  At  that  time  errors  and  vices 
take  root  without  our  having  any  means  of  destroying  them ; 
and  when  the  instrument  is  found,  the  time  for  uprooting  them 
is  past.  If  children  could  spring  at  one  bound  from  the 
mother's  breast  to  the  age  of  reason,  the  education  given 
them  now-a-days  would  be  suitable  ;  but  in  the  due  order  of 

(nature  they  need  one  entirely  different.  They  should  not 
use  the  mind  at  all,  until  it  has  all  its  faculties.  For  while 
it  is  blind  it  cannot  see  the  torch  you  present  to  it ;  nor  can 
it  follow  on  the  immense  plain  of  ideas  a  path  which,  even 
for  the  keenest  eyesight,  reason  traces  so  faintly. 

/     The  earliest  education  ought,  then,  to  be  purely  negative. 

f  It  consists  Trot"~m  teaching  truth  or  virtue,  but  in  shielding 
the  heart  from  vice  and  the  mind  from  error.  If  you  could 
do  nothing  at  all,  and  allow  nothing  to  be  done  ;  if  you 
could  bring  up  your  pupil  sound  and  robust  to  the  age  of 
twelve  years,  without  his  knowing  how  to  distinguish  his  "^ 
right  hand  from  his  left,  the  eyes  of  his  understanding  would 
from  the  very  first  open  to  reason.  Without  a  prejudice  or 
a  habit,  there  would  be  in  him  nothing  to  counteract  the 
effect  of  your  care.     Before  long  he  would  become  in  your     j 


//  f  /^.^ ' 


58  CONCERNING   EDUCATION. 

hands  the  wisest  of  men ;  and  beginning  by  doing  nothing, 
you  would  have  accomplished  a  marvel  in  education. 

Reverse  the  common  practice,  and  you  will  nearly  always 
do  well.     Parents  and  teachers  desiring  to  make  of  a  child 
\i  not  a  child,  but  a  learned  man,  have  never  begun  early  enough 
to  chide,  to  correct,  to  reprimand,  to  flatter,  to  promise,  to 
instruct,  to  discourse  reason  to  him.     Do  better  than  this : 
reasonable  yourself,  and  do  not  argue  with  your  pupil,  least 
of  all,  to  make  him  approve  what  he  dislikes.     For  if  yoa 
persist  in  reasoning   about   disagreeable   things,  you  make 
reasoning   disagreeable   to   him,   and   weaken   its   influence 
I  1 1  H  beforehand  in  a  mind  as  yet  unfitted  to  understand  it.     Keep 
I  III  ^^^  organs,  his  senses,  his  physical  strength,  busy ;  but,  as 
L  V        •  long  as  possible,  keep  his  mind  inactive.     Guard  against  all 
Yv       sensations  arising  in  advance  of  judgment,  which  estimates 
their  true  value.     Keep  back  and  check  unfamiliar  impres- 
sions, and  be  in  no  haste  to  do  good  for  the  sake  of  preventing 
evil.     For  the  good  is  not  real  unless  enlightened  by  reason. 
Regard  every  delay  as  an  advantage ;  for  much  is  gained  if 
the  critical  period  be   approached  without  losing  anything. 
Let  childhood  have  its  full  growth.     If  indeed  a  lesson  must 
be  given,  avoid  it  to-day,  if  you  can  without  danger  delay 
it  until  to-morrowj 

Another  consideration  which  proves  this  method  useful  is 
the  peculiar  bent  of  the  child's  mind.  This  ought  to  be  well 
understood  if  we  would  know  what  moral  government  is  best 
adapted  to  him.  Each  has  his  own  cast  of  mind,  in  accord- 
ance with  which  he  must  be  directed ;  and  if  we  would  suc- 
ceed, he  must  be  ruled  according  to  this  natural  bent  and  no 
other.  Be  judicious  :  watch  nature  long,  and  observe  your 
pupil  carefully  before  you  say  a  word  to  him.  At  first  leave 
the  germ  of  his  character  free  to  disclose  itself.  Repress  it 
as  little  as  possible,  so  that  you  may  the  better  see  all  there 
is  of  it. 


n 


PROCEED   SLOWLY.  69 

Do  you  think  this  season  of  free  action  will  be  time  lost  to 
him  ?  On  the  contrary,  it  will  be  employed  in  the  best  way 
possible.  For  by  this  means  you  will  learn  not  to  lose  a  sin- 
gle moment  when  time  is  more  precious ;  whereas,  if  you 
begin  to  act  before  you  know  what  ought  to  be  done,  you 
act  at  random.  Liable  to  deceive  yourself,  you  will  have  to 
retrace  your  steps,  and  will  be  farther  from  your  object  than 
if  you  had  been  less  in  haste  to  reach  it.  Do  not  then  act 
like  a  miser,  who,  in  order  to  lose  nothing,  loses  a  great  deal. 
At  the  earlier  age  sacrifice  time  which  you  will  recover  with 
interest  later  on.  The  wise  physician  does  not  give  direc- 
tions at  first  sight  of  his  patient,  but  studies  the  sick  man's 
temperament,  before  prescribing.  He  begins  late  with  his 
treatment,  but  cures  the  man  :  the  over-hasty  physician  kills 
him. 

Remember  that,  before  you  venture  undertaking  to  form  a 
man,  you  must  have  made  yourself  a  man  ;  j^ou  must  find  in 
yourself  the  example  you  ought  to  offer  him.  While  the 
child  is  yet  without  knowledge  there  is  time  to  prepare  every- 
thing about  him  so  that  his  first  glance  shall  discover  only 
what  he  ought  to  see.  Make  everybody  respect  you  ;  begin 
by  making  yourself  beloved,  so  that  everybody  will  try  to 
please  you.  You  will  not  be  the  child's  master  unless  you 
are  master  of  everything  around  him,  and  this  authority  will 
not  suflSce  unless  founded  on  esteem  for  virtue. 

There  is  no  use  in  exhausting  your  purse  by  lavishing 
money :  I  have  never  observed  that  money  made  any  one 
beloved.  You  must  not  be  miserly  or  unfeeling,  or  lament 
the  distress  you  can  relieve  ;  but  you  will  open  your  coffers 
in  vain  if  you  do  not  open  your  heart ;  the  hearts  of  others 
will  be  forever  closed  to  you.  You  must  give  your  time, 
your  care,  your  aflTection,  yourself.  For  whatever  you  may 
do,  your  money  certainly  is  not  yourself.     Tokens  of  interest 


\ 


60  CONCBRNIKG  EDUCATION. 

and  of  kindness  go  farther  and  are  of  more  use  than  any 
gifts  whatever.  How  many  unhappy  persons,  how  many 
sufferers,  need  consolation  far  more  than  alms  !  How  many 
who  are  oppressed  are  aided  rather  by  protection  than  by 
money ! 

Reconcile  those  who  are  at  variance ;  prevent  lawsuits  • 
persuade  children  to  filial  duty  and  parents  to  gentleness. 
Encourage  happy  marriages  ;  hinder  disturbances  ;  use  freely 
the  interest  of  your  pupil's  family  on  behalf  of  the  weak  who 
are  denied  justice  and  oppressed  by  the  powerful.  Boldly 
declare  yourself  the  champion  of  the  unfortunate.  Be  just, 
humane,  beneficent.  Be  not  content  with  giving  alms ;  be 
charitable.  Kindness  relieves  more  distress  than  money  can 
reach.  Love  others,  and  they  will  love  you ;  serve  them, 
and  they  will  serve  you ;  be  their  brother,  and  they  will  be 
your  children. 

Blame  others  no  longer  for  the  mischief  you  yourself  are 
doing.  Children  are  less  corrupted  by  the  harm  they  see 
than  by  that  you  teach  them. 

Alwa3''s  preaching,  always  moralizing,  always  acting  the 
pedant,  you  give  them  twenty  worthless  ideas  when  you 
think  you  are  giving  them  one  good  one.  Full  of  what  is 
passing  in  your  own  mind,  j'ou  do  not  see  the  effect  you  are 
producing  upon  theirs. 

In  the  prolonged  torrent  of  words  with  which  you  inces- 
santly weary  them,  do  you  think  there  are  none  they  may 
misunderstand  ?  Do  you  imagine  that  they  will  not  comment 
in  their  own  way  upon  your  wordy  explanations,  and  find  in 
them  a  system  adapted  to  their  own  capacity,  which,  if  need 
be,  they  can  use  against  you? 

Listen  to  a  little  fellow  who  has  just  been  under  instruc* 
tion.  Let  him  prattle,  question,  blunder,  just  as  he  pleases, 
ftnd  3^ou  will  be  surprised  at  the  turn  your  reasonings  bav« 


PROCEED   SLOWLY.  61 

taken  in  his  mind.  He  confounds  one  thing  with  another ; 
he  reverses  everything  ;  he  tires  you,  sometimes  worries  you, 
by  unexpected  objections.  He  forces  you  to  hold  your 
peace,  or  to  make  him  hold  his.  And  what  must  he  think  of 
this  silence,  in  one  so  fond  of  talking?  If  ever  he  wins  this 
advantage  and  knows  the  fact,  farewell  to  his  education. 
He  will  no  longer  try  to  learn,  but  to  refute  what  you  say. 

Be  plain,  discreet,  reticent,  you  who  are  zealous  teachers. 
3e  in  no  haste  to  act,  except  to  prevent  others  from  acting. 

Again  and  again  I  say,  postpone  even  a  good  lesson  if  r 
^ou  can,  for  fear  of  conveying  a  bad  one.  On  this  earth,^ 
meant  by  nature  to  be  man's  first  paradise,  beware  lest  you 
ftct  the  tempter  by  giving  to  innocence  the  knowledge  of 
good  and  evil.  Since  you  cannot  prevent  the  child's  learning 
from  outside  examples,  restrict  your  care  to  the  task  of 
impressing  these  examples  on  his  mind  in  suitable  forms. 

Violent  passions  make  a  striking  impression  on  the  child 
who  notices  them,  because  their  manifestations  are  well-de- 
fined, and  forcibly  attract  his  attention.  Anger  especially 
has  such  stormy  indications  that  its  approach  is  unmistakable. 
Do  not  ask,  "  Is  not  this  a  fine  opportunity  for  the  pedagogue's 
moral  discourse  ?  "  Spare  the  discourse  :  say  not  a  word :  let 
the  child  alone.  Amazed  at  what  he  sees,  he  will  not  fail  to 
question  you.  It  will  not  be  hard  to  answer  him,  on  account 
of  the  very  things  that  strike  his  senses.  He  sees  an  in- 
flamed countenance,  flashing  eyes,  threatening  gestures,  he 
hears  unusually  excited  tones  of  voice  ;  all  sure  signs  that  the 
body  is  not  in  its  usual  condition.  Say  to  him  calmly,  un- 
afltectedly,  without  any  myster}^  "This  poor  man  is  sick  ;  he 
has  a  high  fever."  You  may  take  this  occasion  to  give  him, 
in  few  words,  an  idea  of  maladies  and  of  their  effects ;  for 
these,  being  natural,  are  trammels  of  that  necessity  to  which 
he  has  to  feel  himself  subject. 


62  CONCERNING   EDUCATION. 

From  this,  the  true  idea,  will  he  not  early  feel  repugnance 
at  giving  way  to  excessive  passion,  which  he  regards  as  a 
disease  ?  And  do  you  not  think  that  such  an  idea,  given  at 
the  appropriate  time,  will  have  as  good  an  effect  as  the  most 
tiresome  sermon  on  morals?  Note  also  the  future  conse- 
quences of  this  idea ;  it  will  authorize  3'ou,  if  ever  necessity 
arises,  to  treat  a  rebellious  child  as  a  sick  child,  to  confine 
him  to  his  room,  and  even  to  his  bed,  to  make  him  undergo 
a  course  of  medical  treatment;  to  make  his  growing  vices 
fi  alarming  and  hateful  to  himself.  He  cannot  consider  as  a 
'punishment  the  severity  you  are  forced  to  use  in  curing  him. 
So  that  if  you  yourself,  in  some  hasty  moment,  are  perhaps 
stirred  out  of  the  coolness  and  moderation  it  should  be  your 
study  to  preserve,  do  not  try  to  disguise  your  fault,  but  say 
to  him  frankly,  in  tender  reproach,  ' '  My  boy,  you  have  hurt 
me." 

I  do  not  intend  to  enter  fully  into  details,  but  to  lay  down 
some  general  maxims  and  to  illustrate  difficult  cases.  I  be- 
lieve it  impossible,  in  the  very  heart  of  social  surroundings, 
to  educate  a  child  up  to  the  age  of  twelve  years,  without  giv- 
ing him  some  ideas  of  the  relations  of  man  to  man,  and  of 
morality  in  human  actions.  It  will  suflSce  if  we  put  off  as 
long  as  possible  the  necessity  for  these  ideas,  and  when  they 
must  be  given,  limit  them  to  such  as  are  immediately  appli- 
cable. We  must  do  this  only  lest  he  consider  himself  master 
of  everything,  and  so  injure  others  without  scruple,  because 
unknowingly.  There  are  gentle,  quiet  characters  who,  in 
their  early  innocence,  may  be  led  a  long  way  without  danger 
of  this  kind.  But  others,  naturally  violent,  whose  wildness 
is  precocious,  must  be  trained  into  men  as  early  as  may  be, 
that  you  may  not  be  obliged  to  fetter  them  outright. 


THE  IDEA   OF   PROPERTY.  63 


The  Idea  of  Property. 

i  Our  first  duties  are  to  ourselves ;  our  first  feelings  are 
concentrated  upon  ourselves ;  our  first  natural  movements 
have  reference  to  our  own  preservation  and  well-being. 
Thus  our  first  idea  of  justice  is  not  as  due  from  us,  but  to 
us.  One  error  in  the  education  of  to-day  is,  that  by  speak- 
ing to  children  first  of  their  duties  and  never  of  their  rights, 
we  commence  at  the  wrong  end,  and  tell  them  of  what  they 
cannot  understand,  and  what  cannot  interest  them.  \ 

If  therefore  I  had  to  teach  one  of  these  I  have  mentioned, 
I   should   reflect   that   a   child'  never   attacks   persons,  but 
things ;  he  soon  learns  from  experience  to  respect  his  supe- 
riors in  age  and  strength.     But  things  do  not  defend  them- 
selves.    The  first  idea  to  be  given  him,  therefore,  is  rather 
that  of  property  than  that  of  liberty  ;  and  in  order  to  under-^  ^ 
stand  this  idea  he  must  have  something  of  his  own.    To  speak 
to  him  of  his  clothes,  his  furniture,  his  playthings,  is  to  tell  , 
him  nothing  at  all ;  for  though  he  makes  use  of  these  things, 
he  knows  neither  how  nor  why  he  has  them.     To  tell  him  they 
are  his  because  they  have  been  given  to  him  is  not  much  better, 
for  in  order  to  give,  we  must  have.    This  is  an  ownership  dat- 
ing farther  back  than  his  own,  and  we  wish  him  to  understand 
the  principle  of  ownership  itself.    Besides,  a  gift  is  a  conven- 
tional thing,  and  the  child  cannot  as  yet  understand  what  a,    ^i 
conventional  thing  is.     You  who  read  this,  observe  how  inL  / 
this  instance,  as  in  a  hundred  thousand  others,  a  child's  head! 
is  crammed  with  words  which  from  the  start  have  no  meaning! 
to  him,  but  which  we  imagine  we  have  taught  him. 

We  must  go  back,  then,  to  the  origin  of  ownership,  for 
thence  our  first  ideas  of  it  should  arise.  The  child  living  in 
the  country  will  have  gained  some  notion  of  what  field  labor  is, 


64  CONCERNING  EDUCATION. 

having  needed  only  to  use  his  eyes  and  his  abundant  leisure. 
Every  age  in  life,  and  especially  his  own,  desires  to  create, 
to  imitate,  to  produce,  to  manifest  power  and  activity. 
Only  twice  will  it  be  necessary  for  him  to  see  a  garden  culti- 
vated, seed  sown,  plants  reared,  beans  sprouting,  before  he 
will  desire  to  work  in  a  garden  himself. 

In  accordance  with  principles  already  laid  down  I  do  not 
at  all  oppose  this  desire,  but  encourage  it.  I  share  his 
taste  ;  I  work  with  him,  not  for  his  pleasure,  but  for  my 
own  :  at  least  he  thinks  so.  I  become  his  assistant  gardener  ; 
until  his  arms  are  strong  enough  I  work  the  ground  for  him. 
By  planting  a  bean  in  it,  he  takes  possession  of  it ;  and 
surely  this  possession  is  more  sacred  and  more  to  be  re- 
spected than  that  assumed  by  Nunez  de  Balboa  of  South 
America  in  the  name  of  the  king  of  Spain,  by  planting  his 
standard  on  the  shores  of  the  Pacific  Ocean. 
^  (He  comes  every  day  to  water  the  beans,  and  rejoices  to 
see  them  thriving.  I  add  to  his  delight  by  telling  him  "  This 
belongs  to  you."  In  explaining  to  him  what  I  mean  by 
"  belongs,"  I  make  him  feel  that  he  has  put  into  this  plot  of 
ground  his  time,  his  labor,  his  care,  his  bodily  self ;  that  in 
it  is  a  part  of  himself  which  he  may  claim  back  from  any 
one  whatever,  just  as  he  may  draw  his  own  arm  back  if 
another  tries  to  hold  it  against  his  will. 

One  fine  morning  he  comes  as  usual,  running,  watering- 
pot  in  hand.  But  oh,  what  a  sight !  What  a  misfortune ! 
The  beans  are  uprooted,  the  garden  bed  is  all  in  disorder  ; 
the  place  actually  no  longer  knows  itself.  What  has  become 
of  my  labor,  the  sweet  reward  of  all  my  care  and  toil? 
Who  has  robbed  me  of  my  own  ?  Who  has  taken  my  beans 
away  from  me?  The  little  heart  swells  with  the  bitterness 
of  its  first  feeling  of  injustice.  His  eyes  overflow  with  tears ; 
his  distress  rends  the  air  with  moans  and  cries.     We  com- 


THE   IDEA   OF   PROPERTY.  65 

passionate  his  troubles,  share  his  indignation,  make  inqui- 
ries, sift  the  matter  thoroughly.  At  last  we  find  that  the 
gardener  has  done  the  deed :  we  send  for  him. 

But  we  find  that  we  have  reckoned  without  our  host. 
When  the  gardener  hears  what  we  are  complaining  of,  he 
complains  more  than  we. 

"What!  So  it  was  you,  gentlemen,  who  ruined  all  my 
labor !  I  had  planted  some  Maltese  melons,  from  seed  given 
me  as  a  great  rarity  :  I  hoped  to  give  you  a  grand  treat  with 
them  when  they  were  ripe.  But  for  the  sake  of  planting  your 
miserable  beans  there,  you  killed  my  melons  after  they  had 
actually  sprouted;  and  there  are  no  more  to  be  had.  You 
have  done  me  more  harm  than  you  can  remedy,  and  j^ou 
have  lost  the  pleasure  of  tasting  some  delicious  melons." 

Jean  Jacques.  "  Excuse  us,  my  good  Robert.  You  put 
into  them  your  labor,  your  care.  I  see  plainly  that  we  did 
wrong  to  spoil  your  work :  but  we  will  get  you  some  more 
Maltese  seed,  and  we  will  not  till  any  more  ground  without 
finding  out  whether  some  one  else  has  put  his  hand  to  it  be- 
fore us." 

Robert.  *'  Oh  well,  gentlemen,  you  may  as  well  end  the 
business  ;  for  there's  no  waste  land.  What  I  work  was  im- 
proved by  my  father,  and  it's  the  same  with  everybody  here- 
about.    All  the  fields  you  see  were  taken  up  long  ago." 

Emile.  "Mr.  Robert,  do  you  often  lose  your  melon- 
seed?" 

Robert.  "Pardon,  my  young  master:  we  don't  often 
have  young  gentlemen  about  that  are  careless  like  you. 
Nobody  touches  his  neighbor's  garden  ;  everj^body  respects 
other  people's  work,  to  make  sure  of  his  own." 

[fiitfiLE.     "  But  I  haven't  any  garden." 

Robert.  "What's  that  to  me?  If  you  spoil  mine,  I 
won't  let  you  walk  in  it  any  more ;  for  you  are  to  under- 
stand that  I'm  not  going  to  have  all  my  pains  for  nothing." 


66  CONCERNING  EDUCATION. 

Jean  Jacques.  "  Can't  we  arrange  this  matter  with  honest 
Robert?  Just  let  my  little  friend  and  me  have  one  corner 
of  your  garden  to  cultivate,  on  condition  that  you  have  half 
the  produce." 

Robert.  "  I  will  let  you  have  it  without  that  condition; 
but  remember,  I  will  root  up  your  beans  if  you  meddle  with 
my  melons." 

In  this  essay  on  the  manner  of  teaching  fundamental  no- 
tions to  children  it  may  be  seen  how  the  idea  of  property 
naturally  goes  back  to  the  right  which  the  first  occupant 
acquired  by  labor.  This  is  clear,  concise,  simple,  and  always 
within  the  comprehension  of  the  child.  From  this  to  the 
right  of  holding  property,  and  of  transferring  it,  there  is  but 
one  step,  and  beyond  this  we  are  to  stop  short,  j 

It  will  also  be  evident  that  the  explanation  I  have  included 
in  two  pages  may,  in  actual  practice,  be  the  work  of  an  entire 
year.  For  in  the  development  of  moral  ideas,  we  cannot 
advance  too  slowly,  or  establish  them  too  firmly  at  every  step. 
I  entreat  you,  young  teachers,  to  think  of  the  example  I  have 
given,  and  to  remember  that  your  lessons  upon  every  subject 
ought  to  be  rather  in  actions  than  in  words ;  for  children 
readily  forget  what  is  said  or  done  to  them. 

As  I  have  said,  such  lessons  ought  to  be  given  earlier  or 
later,  as  the  disposition  of  the  child,  gentle  or  turbulent, 
hastens  or  retards  the  necessity  for  giving  them.  In  em- 
ploying them,  we  call  in  an  evidence  that  cannot  be  misun- 
derstood. But  that  in  difficult  cases  nothing  important  may 
be  omitted,  let  us  give  another  illustration. 

Your  little  meddler  spoils  everything  he  touches ;  do  not 
be  vexed,  but  put  out  of  his  reach  whatever  he  can  spoil. 
He  breaks  the  furniture  he  uses.  Be  in  no  hurry  to  give  him 
any  more ;  let  him  feel  the  disadvantages  of  doing  without  it. 
He  breaks  the  windows  in  his  room ;  let  the  wind  blow  on 


THE  IDEA  OF  PROPERTY.  67 

him  night  and  day.     Have  no  fear  of  his  taking  cold;  he 
had  better  take  cold  than  be  a  fool. 

Do  not  fret  at  the  inconvenience  he  causes  you,  but  make 
him  feel  it  first  of  all.  Finally,  without  saying  anj^thing 
about  it,  have  the  panes  of  glass  mended.  He  breaks  them 
again.  Change  your  method :  say  to  him  coolly  and  without 
anger,  ' '  Those  windows  are  mine  ;  I  took  pains  to  have  them 
put  there,  and  I  am  going  to  make  sure  that  they  shall  not 
be  broken  again."  Then  shut  him  up  in  some  dark  place 
where  there  are  no  windows.  At  this  novel  proceeding,  he 
begins  to  cry  and  storm :  but  nobody  listens  to  him.  He 
soon  grows  tired  of  this,  and  changes  his  tone  ;  he  complains 
and  groans.  A  servant  is  sent,  whom  the  rebel  entreats  to 
set  him  free.  Without  trying  to  find  any  excuse  for  utter 
refusal,  the  servant  answers,  "I  have  windows  to  take  care 
of,  too,"  and  goes  away.  At  last,  after  the  child  has  been 
in  durance  for  several  hours,  long  enough  to  tire  him  and 
to  make  him  remember  it,  some  one  suggests  an  arrangement 
by  which  you  shall  agree  to  release  him,  and  he  to  break  no 
more  windows.  He  sends  to  beseech  you  to  come  and  see 
him ;  you  come ;  he  makes  his  proposal.  You  accept  it  im- 
mediately, saying,  "  Well  thought  of ;  that  will  be  a  good 
thing  for  both  of  us.  Why  didn't  you  think  of  this  capital 
plan  before?"  Then,  without  requiring  any  protestations, 
or  confirmation  of  his  promise,  you  gladly  caress  him  and 
take  him  to  his  room  at  once,  regarding  this  compact  as 
sacred  and  inviolable  as  if  ratified  by  an  oath.  What  an  idea 
of  the  obligation,  and  the  usefulness,  of  an  engagement  will 
he  not  gain  from  this  transaction  !  I  am  greatly  mistaken  if 
there  is  an  unspoiled  child  on  earth  who  would  be  proof 
against  it,  or  who  would  ever  after  think  of  breaking  a  win- 
dow purposely. 


QS  CONCERNING  EDUCATION. 


Falsehood.    The  Force  of  Example. 

We  are  now  within  the  domain  of  morals,  and  the  door  k 
open  to  vice.  Side  by  side  with  conventionalities  and  duties 
spring  up  deceit  and  falsehood.  As  soon  as  there  are  things 
we  ought  not  to  do,  we  desire  to  hide  what  we  ought  not  to 
have  done.  As  soon  as  one  interest  leads  us  to  promise,  a 
stronger  one  may  urge  us  to  break  the  promise.  Our  chief 
concern  is  how  to  break  it  and  still  go  unscathed.  It  is  natu- 
ral to  find  expedients  ;  we  dissemble  and  we  utter  falsehood. 
Unable  to  prevent  this  evil,  we  must  nevertheless  punish  it. 
j^us  the  miseries  of  our  life  arise  from  our  mistakes. 

\     I  have  said  enough  to   show  that  punishment,  as   such, 
f  jshould  not  be  inflicted  upon  children,  but  should  always  hap- 

jpen  to  them  as  the  natural  result  of  their  own  wrong-doing. 
M3b  not,  then,  preach  to  them  against  falsehood,  or  punish  them 
confessedly  on  account  of  a  falsehood.  But  if  they  are  guilty 
of  one,  let  all  its  consequences  fall  heavily  on  their  heads. 
Let  them  know  what  it  is  to  be  disbelieved  even  when  they 
speak  the  truth,  and  to  be  accused  of  faults  in  spite  of  their 
earnest  denial.  But  let  us  inquire  what  falsehood  is,  in 
children. 

i  -.  There  are  two  kinds  of  falsehood ;  that  of  fact,  which 
refers  to  things  already  past,  and  that  of  right,  which  has  to 
do  with  the  future.  The  first  occurs  when  we  deny  doing 
what  we  have  done,  and  in  general,  when  we  knowingly  utter 
what  is  not  true.  The  other  occurs  when  we  promise  what 
we  do  not  mean  to  perform,  and,  in  general,  when  we 
express  an  intention  contrary  to  the  one  we  really  have. 
These  two  sorts  of  untruth  may  sometimes  meet  in  the  same 
case  ;  but  let' us  here  discuss  their  points  of  difference. 
One  who  realizes  his  need  of  help  from  others,  and  con- 


\  FALSEHOOD.      THE   FOECE   OF  EXAMPLE.  69 

stantly  receives  kindness  from  them,  has  nothing  to  gain  by 
deceiving  them.  On  the  contrary,  it  is  evidently  his  interest 
that  they  should  see  things  as  they  are,  lest  they  make  mis- 
takes to  his  disadvantage.  It  is  clear,  then,  that  the  false- 
hood of  fact  is  not  natural  to  children.  But  the  law  of  obe- 
dience makes  falsehood  necessary  ;  because,  obedience  being 
irksome,  we  secretly  avoid  it  whenever  we  can,  and  just  in 
proportion  as  the  immediate  advantage  of  escaping  reproof  or 
punishment  outweighs  the  remoter  advantage  to  be  gained  by 
revealing  the  truth. 

Why  should  a  child  educated  naturally  and  in  perfect  free- 
dom, tell  a  falsehood  ?  What  has  he  to  hide  from  you  ?  You 
are  not  going  to  reprove  or  punish  him,  or  exact  anything 
from  him.  Why  should  he  not  tell  you  everj^thing  as  frankly 
as  to  his  little  playmate  ?  He  sees  no  more  danger  in  the 
one  case  than  in  the  other. 

The  falsehood  of  right  is  still  less  natural  to  children, 
because  promises  to  do  or  not  to  do  are  conventional  acts, 
foreign  to  our  nature  and  infringements  of  our  liberty. 
Besides,  all  the  engagements  of  children  are  in  themselves 
void,  because,  as  their  limited  vision  does  not  stretch  bej^ond 
the  present,  they  know  not  what  they  do  when  they  bind 
themselves.  It  is  hardly  possible  for  a  child  to  tell  a  lie  in 
making  a  promise.  For,  considering  only  how  to  overcome 
a  present  difficulty,  all  devices  that  have  no  immediate  effect 
become  alike  to  him.  In  promising  for  a  time  to  come  he 
actually  does  not  promise  at  all,  as  his  still  dormant  imagi- 
nation cannot  extend  itself  over  two  different  periods  of 
time.  If  he  could  escape  a  whipping  or  earn  some  sugar- 
plums by  promising  to  throw  himself  out  of  the  window  to- 
morrow, he  would  at  once  promise  it.  Therefore  the  laws 
pay  no  regard  to  engagements  made  by  children  ;  and  when 
some  fathers  and  teachers,  more  strict  than  this,  require  the 


70  CONCERNING  EDUCATION. 

fulfilling  of  such  engagements,  it  is  only  in  things  the  child 
ought  to  do  without  promising. 

As  the  child  in  making  a  promise  is  not  aware  what  he  is 
doing,  he  cannot  be  guilty  of  falsehood  in  so  doing  :  but  this 
is  not  the  case  when  he  breaks  a  promise.  For  he  well 
remembers  having  made  the  promise ;  what  he  cannot  under' 
stand  is,  the  importance  of  keeping  it.  Unable  to  read  the 
future,  he  does  not  foresee  the  consequences  of  his  actions ; 
and  when  he  violates  engagements  he  does  nothing  con- 
trary to  what  might  be  expected  of  his  years. 

It  follows  from  this  that  all  the  untruths  spoken  by  chil- 
dren are  the  fault  of  those  who  instruct  them ;  and  that 
endeavoring  to  teach  them  how  to  be  truthful  is  only  teach- 
ing them  how  to  tell  falsehoods.  We  are  so  eager  to  regu- 
late, to  govern,  to  instruct  them,  that  we  never  find  means 
enough  to  reach  our  object.  We  want  to  win  new  victories 
over  their  minds  by  maxims  not  based  upon  fact,  by  unrea- 
sonable precepts ;  we  would  rather  the}''  should  know  their 
lessons  and  tell  lies  than  to  remain  ignorant  and  speak  the 
truth. 

As  for  us,  who  give  our  pupils  none  but  practical  teaching, 
and  would  rather  have  them  good  than  knowing,  we  shall 
not  exact  the  truth  from  them  at  all,  lest  they  disguise  it ; 
we  will  require  of  them  no  promises  they  may  be  tempted  to 
break.  If  in  my  absence  some  anonymous  mischief  has  been 
done,  I  will  beware  of  accusing  Emile,  or  of  asking  "Was 
it  you  ?  "^  For  what  would  that  be  but  teaching  him  to  deny 
it?    If  his  naturall}^  troublesome  disposition  obliges  me  to 

1  Nothing  is  more  injudicious  than  such  a  question,  especially  when  the 
child  is  in  fault.  In  that  case,  if  he  thinks  you  know  what  he  has  done,  he 
will  see  that  you  are  laying  a  snare  for  him,  and  this  opinion  cannot  fail  to 
set  him  against  you.  If  he  thinks  you  do  not  know  he  will  say  to  himself, 
"  Why  should  I  disclose  my  fault?  "  And  thus  the  first  temptation  to  false- 
hood is  the  result  of  your  imprudent  question.  —  [Note  by  J.  J.  Rousseau.] 


FALSEHOOD.      THE  FORCE   OF   EXAMPLE.  71 

make  some  agreement  with  him,  I  will  plan  so  well  that  any 
such  proposal  shall  come  from  him  and  never  from  me.  Thus, 
whenever  he  is  bound  by  an  engagement  he  shall  have  an 
immediate  and  tangible  interest  in  fulfilling  it.  And  if  he 
ever  fails  in  this,  the  falsehood  shall  bring  upon  him  evil  re- 
sults which  he  sees  must  arise  from  the  very  nature  of  things, 
and  never  from  the  vengeance  of  his  tutor.  Far  from  need- 
ing recourse  to  such  severe  measures,  however,  I  am  almost 
sure  that  !lSmile  will  be  long  in  learning  what  a  lie  is,  and 
upon  finding  it  out  will  be  greatly  amazed,  not  understanding 
what  is  to  be  gained  by  it.  It  is  very  plain  that  the  more 
I  make  his  welfare  independent  of  either  the  will  or  the 
judgment  of  others,  the  more  I  uproot  within  him  all  interest 
in  telling  falsehoods. 

When  we  are  less  eager  to  instruct  we  are  also  less  eager 
to  exact  requirements  from  our  pupil,  and  can  take  time  to 
require  only  what  is  to  the  purpose.  In  that  case,  the  child 
will  be  developed,  just  because  he  is  not  spoiled.  But  when 
some  blockhead  teacher,  not  understanding  what  he  is  about, 
continually  forces  the  child  to  promise  things,  making  no 
distinctions,  allowing  no  choice,  knowing  no  limit,  the  little 
fellow,  worried  and  weighed  down  with  all  these  obligations, 
neglects  them,  forgets  them,  at  last  despises  them  ;  and  con- 
sidering them  mere  empty  formulas,  turns  the  giving  and  the 
breaking  of  them  into  ridicule.  If  then  you  want  to  make 
him  faithful  to  his  word,  be  discreet  in  requiring  him  to  give 
it. 

The  details  just  entered  upon  in  regard  to  falsehood  may 
apply  in  many  respects  to  all  duties  which,  when  enjoined 
upon  children,  become  to  them  not  only  hateful  but  imprac- 
ticable. In  order  to  seem  to  preach  virtue  we  make  vices 
attractive,  and  actually  impart  th^n  by  forbidding  them.  If 
we  would  have  the  children  religious,  we  tire  them  out  taking 


72  CONCERNING  EDUCATION. 

them  to  church.  By  making  them  mumble  prayers  inces- 
santly we  make  them  sigh  for  the  happiness  of  never  praying 
at  all.  To  inspire  charity  in  them,  we  make  them  give  alms, 
as  if  we  disdained  doing  it  ourselves.  It  is  not  the  child, 
but  his  teacher,  who  ought  to  do  the  giving.  However  much 
you  love  your  pupil,  this  is  an  honor  you  ought  to  dispute 
with  him,  leading  him  to  feel  that  he  is  not  yet  old  enough 
to  deserve  it. 

Giving  alms  is  the  act  of  one  who  knows  the  worth  of  his 
gift,  and  his  fellow-creature's  need  of  the  gift.  A  child  who 
knows  nothing  of  either  can  have  no  merit  in  bestowing. 
He  gives  without  charity  or  benevolence :  he  is  almost 
ashamed  to  give  at  all,  as,  judging  from  your  example  and 
his  own,  only  children  give  alms,  and  leave  it  off  when  grown 
up.  Observe,  that  we  make  the  child  bestow  only  things 
whose  value  he  does  not  know :  pieces  of  metal,  which  he 
carries  in  his  pocket,  and  which  are  good  for  nothing  else. 
A  child  would  rather  give  away  a  hundred  gold  pieces  than 
a  single  cake.  But  suggest  to  this  free-handed  giver  the 
idea  of  parting  with  what  he  really  prizes  —  his  playthings, 
his  sugar-plums,  or  his  luncheon ;  you  will  soon  find  out 
whether  you  have  made  him  reall}^  generous. 

To  accomplish  the  same  end,  resort  is  had  to  another  expe- 
dient, that  of  instantly  returning  to  the  child  what  he  has 
given  away,  so  that  he  habitually  gives  whatever  he  knows 
will  be  restored  to  him.  I  have  rarely  met  with  other  than 
♦these  two  kinds  of  generosity  in  children,  namely,  the  giving 
either  of  what  is  no  use  to  themselves,  or  else  of  what  they 
tare  certain  will  come  back  to  them. 

''  Do  this,"  says  Locke,  "  that  they  may  be  convinced  by 
experience  that  he  who  gives  most  generously  has  always  the 
better  portion."  This  is  making  him  liberal  in  appearance 
and  miserly  in  reality.  He  adds,  that  children  will  thus  ac- 
quire the  habit  of  generosity. 


FALSEHOOD.      THE  FORCE  OF  EXAMPLE.  73 

Yes ;  a  miser's  generosity,  giving  an  egg  to  gain  an  ox. 
But  when  called  upon  to  be  generous  in  earnest,  good-bye 
to  the  habit ;  they  soon  cease  giving  when  the  gift  no  longer 
comes  back  to  them.  We  ought  to  keep  in  view  the  habit  of 
mind  rather  than  that  of  the  hands.  Like  this  virtue  are  all 
others  taught  to  children  ;  and  their  early  years  are  spent  in 
sadness,  that  we  may  preach  these  sterling  virtues  to  them  ! 
Excellent  training  this ! 

Lay  aside  all  affectation,  you  teachers ;  be  yourselves 
good  and  virtuous,  so  that  your  example  may  be  deeply 
graven  on  your  pupils'  memory  until  such  time  as  it  finds 
lodgment  in  their  heart.  Instead  of  early  requiring  acts  of 
charity  from  my  pupil  I  would  rather  do  them  in  his  pres- 
ence, taking  from  him  all  means  of  imitating  me,  as  if  I  con- 
sidered it  an  honor  not  due  to  his  age.  For  he  should  by  no 
means  be  in  the  habit  of  thinking  a  man's  duties  the  same  as 
a  child's.  Seeing  me  assist  the  poor,  he  questions  me  about 
it  and,  if  occasion  serve,  I  answer,  ''  My  boy,  it  is  because, 
since  poor  people  are  willing  there  should  be  rich  people,  the 
rich  have  promised  to  take  care  of  those  who  have  no  money 
or  cannot  earn  a  living  by  their  labor." 

"And  have  you  promised  it  too?"  inquires  he. 

"  Of  course ;  the  money  that  comes  into  my  hands  is  mine 
to  use  only  upon  this  condition,  which  its  owner  has  to 
carry  out." 

After  this  conversation,  and  we  have  seen  how  a  child  may 
be  prepared  to  understand  it,  other  children  besides  Emile 
would  be  tempted  to  imitate  me  by  acting  like  a  rich  man.  In 
this  case  I  would  at  least  see  that  it  should  not  be  done  osten- 
tatiously. I  would  rather  have  him  rob  me  of  my  right,  and 
conceal  the  fact  of  his  generosity.  It  would  be  a  stratagem 
natural  at  his  age,  and  the  only  one  I  would  pardon  in  him. 

The  only  moral  lesson  suited  to  childhood  and  the  most 


'^i 


74  CONCERNING  EDUCATION. 

^important  at  any  age  is,  never  to  injure  any  one.  Even  the 
principle  of  doing  good,  if  not  subordinated  to  this,  is  danger- 
ous, false,  and  contradictory.  For  who  does  not  do  good? 
Everybody  does,  even  a  wicked  man  who  makes  one  happy 
at  the  expense  of  making  a  hundred  miserable :  and  thence 
arise  all  our  calamities.  The  most  exalted  virtues  are  nega- 
tive :  they  are  hardest  to  attain,  too,  because  they  are  unos- 
tentatious, and  rise  above  even  that  gratification  dear  to  the 
heart  of  man, — sending  another  person  away  pleased  with 
us.  If  there  be  a  man  who  never  injures  one  of  his  fellow- 
creatures,  what  good  must  he  achieve  for  them !  What  fear- 
lessness, what  vigor  of  mind  he  requires  for  it!  Not  by 
reasoning  about  this  principle,  but  by  attempting  to  carry  it 
into  practice,  do  we  find  out  how  great  it  is,  how  hard  to 
fulfil. 

The  foregoing  conveys  some  faint  idea  of  the  precautions 
I  would  have  you  employ  in  giving  children  the  instructions 
we  sometimes  cannot  withhold  without  risk  of  their  injuring 
themselves  or  others,  and  especially  of  contracting  bad  habits 
of  which  it  will  by  and  b}'  be  diflScult  to  break  them.     But 

-/  we  may  rest  assured  that  in  children  rightly  educated  the 
necessity  will  seldom  arise ;  for  it  is  impossible  that  they 
should  become  intractable,  vicious,  deceitful,  greedy,  unless 
the  vices  which  make  them  so  are  sowed  in  their  hearts.  For 
this  reason  what  has  been  said  on  this  point  applies  rather  to 
exceptional  than  to  ordinary  cases.  But  such  exceptional 
cases  become  common  in  proportion  as  children  have  more 
frequent  opportunity  to  depart  from  their  natural  state  and 
to  acquire  the  vices  of  their  seniors.  Those  brought  up  among 
men  of  the  world  absolutely  require  earlier  teaching  in  these 
matters  than  those  educated  apart  from  such  surroundings. 

A  iHence  this  private  education  is  to  be  preferred,  even  if  it  do 
to  more  than  allow  childhood  leisure  to  grow  to  perfection. 


f 


^GATIVE  OR  TEMPORIZING  EDUCATION.  76 

Negative  or  Temporizing  Education. 

Exactly  contrary  to  the  cases  just  described  are  those 
whom  a  happy  temperament  exalts  above  their  years.  As 
there  are  some  men  who  never  outgrow  childhood,  so  there 
are  others  who  never  pass  through  it,  but  are  men  almost 
from  their  birth.  The  difficulty  is  that  these  exceptional 
cases  are  rare  and  not  easily  distinguished ;  besides,  all 
mothers  capable  of  understanding  that  a  child  can  be  a  prod- 
igy, have  no  doubt  that  their  own  are  such.  They  go  even 
farther  than  this  :  they  take  for  extraordinary  indications  the 
sprightliness,  the  bright  childish  pranks  and  sayings,  the 
shrewd  simplicity  of  ordinary  cases,  characteristic  of  that 
time  of  life,  and  showing  plainly  that  a  child  is  only  a  child. 
Is  it  surprising  that,  allowed  to  speak  so  much  and  so  freely, 
unrestrained  by  any  consideration  of  propriety,  a  child  should 
occasionally  make  happy  replies  ?  If  he  did  not,  it  would  be 
even  more  surprising  ;  just  as  if  an  astrologer,  among  a  hun- 
dred false  predictions,  should  never  hit  upon  a  single  true 
one.  ''  They  lie  so  often,"  said  Henry  IV.,  'jM;hat_they  end .^-^ 
by  telling  the  truth."  To  be  a  WttTone^need  only  utter  a 
great  many  foolish  speeches.  Heaven  help  men  of  fashion, 
whose  reputation  rests  upon  just  this  foundation ! 

The  most  brilliant  thoughts  may  enter  a  child's  head,  or 
rather,  the  most  brilliant  sayings  may  fall  from  his  lips,  just 
as  the  most  valuable  diamonds  may  fall  into  his  hands,  with- 
out his  having  any  right  either  to  the  thoughts  or  to  the 
diamonds.  At  his  age,  he  has  no  real  property  of  any 
kind.  A  child's  utterances  are  not  the  same  to  him  as  to  us  ; 
he  does  not  attach  to  them  the  same  ideas.  If  he  has  any 
ideas  at  all  on  the  subject,  they  have  neither  order  nor  cohe- 
rence in  his  mind ;  in  all  his  thoughts  nothing  is  certain  or 
stable.     If  you  watch  your  supposed  prodigy  attentively,  yoq 


76  CONCERNING  EDUCATION. 


T 


will  sometimes  find  him  a  well-spring  of  energ}^,  clear-sighted, 
penetrating  the  ver}'  marrow  of  things.  Much  oftener  the 
same  mind  appears  commonplace,  dull,  and  as  if  enveloped 
in  a  dense  fog.  Sometimes  he  outruns  you,  and  sometimes 
he  stands  still.  At  one  moment  you  feel  like  saying,  "  He  is 
a  genius,"  and  at  another,  "  He  is  a  fool."  You  are  mistaken 
in  either  case  :  he  is  a  child  ;  he  is  an  eaglet  that  one  moment 
beats  the  air  with  its  wings,  and  the  next  moment  falls  back 
into  the  nest. 

'  In  spite  of  appearances,  then,  treat  him  as  his  age  demands, 
and  beware  lest  you  exhaust  his  powers  by  attempting  to  use 
fchem  too  freely.  If  this  young  brain  grows  warm,  if  you 
see  it  beginning  to  seethe,  leave  it  free  to  ferment,  but  do 
not  excite  it,  lest  it  melt  altogether  into  air.  When  the  first 
flow  of  spirits  has  evaporated,  repress  and  keep  within 
bounds  the  rest,  until,  as  time  goes  on,  the  whole  is  trans- 
formed into  life-giving  warmth  and  real  power.  Otherwise 
you  will  lose  both  time  and  pains  ;  you  will  destroy  your  own 
handiwork,  and  after  having  thoughtlessly  intoxicated  yourself 
with  all  these  inflammable  vapors,  you  will  have  nothing  left 
but  the  dregs. 

Nothing  has  been  more  generally  or  certainly  observed  than, 
that  dull  children  make  commonplace  men.  In  childhood  it 
is  very  difficult  to  distinguish  real  dullness  from  that  mislead- 
ing apparent  dullness  which  indicates  a  strong  character.  At 
first  it  seems  strange  that  the  two  extremes  should  meet  in 
indications  so  much  alike  ;  and  yet  such  is  the  case.  For  at 
an  age  when  man  has  no  real  ideas  at  all,  the  difference 
between  one  who  has  genius  and  one  who  has  not  is,  that  the 
latter  entertains  only  mistaken  ideas,  and  the  former,  encoun- 
tering only  such,  admits  none  at  all.  The  two  are  therefore 
alike  in  this,  that  the  dullard  is  capable  of  nothing,  and  the 
other  finds  nothing  to  suit  him-     The  only  means  of  distin* 


CONCERNING  THE  MEMOKY.  77 

gnishing  them  is  chance,  which  may  bring  to  the  genius  some 
ideas  he  can  comprehend,  while  the  dull  mind  is  always  the 
same. 

During  his  childhood  the  younger  Cato  was  at  home  con- 
sidered an  idiot.  No  one  said  anything  of  him  beyond  that 
he  was  silent  and  headstrong.  It  was  only  in  the  antecham- 
ber of  Sulla  that  his  uncle  learned  to  know  him.  If  he  had 
never  crossed  its  threshold,  he  might  have  been  thought  a 
fool  until  he  was  grown.  If  there  had  been  no  such  person 
as  Caesar,  this  very  Cato,  who  read  the  secret  of  Caesar's  fatal 
genius,  and  from  afar  foresaw  his  ambitious  designs,  would 
always  have  been  treated  as  a  visionary.^  Those  who  judge 
of  children  so  hastily  are  very  liable  to  be  mistaken.  They 
are  often  more  childish  than  the  children  themselves. 


Concerning  the  Memory. 

Respect  children,  and  be  in  no  haste  to  judge  their  actions, 
good  or  evil.     Let  the  exceptional  cases   show  themselvea 
such  for  some  time  before  you  adopt  special  methods  of  deal-: 
ing  with  them.     Let  nature  be  long   at  work  before  youj 
attempt  to  supplant  her,  lest  you  thwart  her  work.     You  say' 
you  know  how  precious  time  is,  and  do  not  wish  to  lose  it. 
Do  you  not  know  that  to  employ  it  badly  is  to  waste  it  still 
more,  and  that  a  child  badly  taught  is  farther  from  being 
wise  than  one  not  taught  at  all  ?     You  are  troubled  at  seeing 
him  spend  his  early  years  in  doing  nothing.     What!  is  it 
nothing  to  be  happy  ?  Is  it  nothing  to  skip,  to  play,  to  run 

1  He  refers  to  Cato,  sumamed  of  Utica,  from  the  African  city  in  which 
he  ended  his  own  life.  When  a  child,  he  was  often  invited  hy  his  trothei 
to  the  house  of  the  all-powerful  Sulla.  The  cruelties  of  the  tyrant  roused 
the  hoy  to  indignation,  and  it  was  necessary  to  watch  him  lest  he  should 
attempt  to  kill  Sulla.  It  was  in  the  latter's  antechamber  that  tke  scene 
described  by  Plutarch  occurred. 


78  CONCERNING  EDUCATION. 

about  all  day  long  ?  Never  in  all  his  life  will  he  Fe  so  busy 
as  now.  Plato,  in  that  work  of  his  considered  so  severe,  the 
''  Republic,"  would  have  children  accustomed  to  festivals, 
games,  songs,  and  pastimes  ;  one  would  think  he  was  satisfied 
with  having  carefully  taught  them  how  to  enjoy  themselves. 
And  Seneca,  speaking  of  the  Roman  youth  of  old,  says, 
"  They  were  always  standing  ;  nothing  was  taught  them  that 
they  had  to  learn  when  seated."  Were  they  of  less  account 
when  they  reached  manhood?  Have  no  fear,  then,  of  this 
supposed  idleness.  What  would  you  think  of  a  man  who,  in 
order  to  use  his  whole  life  to  the  best  advantage,  would  not 
sleep?  You  would  say,  "The  man  has  no  sense;  he  does 
not  enjoy  life,  but  robs  himself  of  it.  To  avoid  sleep,  he 
rushes  on  his  death.'*  The  two  cases  are  parallel,  for  child- 
hood is  the  slumber  of  reason. 

Apparent  quickness  in  learning  is  the  ruin  of  children.  We 
do  not  consider  that  this  very  quickness  proves  that  they  are 
learning  nothing.  Their  smooth  and  polished  brain  reflects 
like  a  mirror  the  objects  presented  to  it,  but  nothing  abides 
there,  nothing  penetrates  it.  The  child  retains  the  words ; 
the  ideas  are  reflected  ;  they  who  hear  understand  them,  but 
he  himself  does  not  understand  them  at  all. 

Although  memory  and  reason  are  two  essentially  different 
faculties,  the  one  is  never  really  developed  without  the  other. 
Before  the  age  of  reason,  the  child  receives  not  ideas,  but 
tmages.  There  is  this  difference  between  the  two,  that  images 
kre  only  absolute  representations  of  objects  of  sense,  and 
ideas  are  notions  of  objects  determined  by  their  relations. 
An  image  may  exist  alone  in  the  mind  that  represents  it,  but 
every  idea  supposes  other  ideas.  When  we  imagine,  we  only 
see  ;  when  we  conceive  of  things,  we  compare  them.  Our 
sensations  are  entirely  passive,  whereas  all  our  perceptions 
or  ideas  spring  from  an  active  principle  which  judges. 


CONCERNING   THE  MEMORY.  79 

I  say  ^HPthat  children,  incapable  of  judging,  really  have 
no  memory.  They  retain  sounds,  shapes,  sensations ;  but 
rarely  ideas,  and  still  more  rarely  the  relations  of  ideas  to 
one  another.  If  this  statement  is  apparently  refuted  by  the 
objection  that  they  learn  some  elements  of  geometry,  it  is  not 
really  true  ;  that  very  fact  confirms  my  statement.  It  shows 
that,  far  from  knowing  how  to  reason  themselves,  they  cannot 
even  keep  in  mind  the  reasonings  of  others.  For  if  you 
investigate  the  method  of  these  little  geometricians,  you  dis- 
cover at  once  that  they  have  retained  only  the  exact  impres- 
sion of  the  diagram  and  the  words  of  the  demonstration. 
Upon  the  least  new  objection  thej^  are  puzzled.  Their 
knowledge  is  only  of  the  sensation  ;  nothing  has  become  the 
property  of  their  understanding.  Even  their  memory  is 
rarely  more  perfect  than  their  other  faculties :  for  when 
grown  they  have  nearly  always  to  learn  again  as  realities 
things  whose  names  they  learned  in  childhood. 

However,  I  am  far  from  thinking  that  children  have  no 
power  of  reasoning  whatever. ^  I  observe,  on  the  contrary, 
that  in  things  they  understand,  things  relating  to  their  present 
and  manifest  interests,  they  reason  extremely  well.    We  are, 

1  While  writing  this  I  have  reflected  a  hundred  times  that  in  an  extended 
work  it  is  impossible  always  to  use  the  same  words  in  the  same  sense. 
No  language  is  rich  enough  to  furnish  terms  and  expressions  to  keep  pace 
with  the  possible  modifications  of  our  ideas.  The  method  which  defines 
all  the  terms,  and  substitutes  the  definition  for  the  term,  is  fine,  but  im- 
practicable ;  for  how  shall  we  then  avoid  travelling  in  a  circle  ?  If  defi- 
nitions could  be  given  without  using  words,  they  might  be  useful.  Never- 
theless, I  am  convinced  that,  poor  as  our  language  is,  we  can  make  our- 
selves understood,  not  by  always  attaching  the  same  meaning  to  the  same 
Words,  but  by  so  using  each  word  that  its  meaning  shall  be  sufficiently 
determined  by  the  ideas  nearly  related  to  it,  and  so  that  each  sentence  in 
which  a  word  is  used  shall  serve  to  define  the  word.  Sometimes  I  say 
that  children  are  incapable  of  reasoning,  and  sometimes  I  make  them 
reason  extremely  well ;  I  think  that  my  ideas  do  not  contradict  each  other, 
though  I  cannot  escape  the  inconvenient  contradictions  of  my  mode  of 
expression. 


80  CONCERNING  EDUCATION.   ^^^V       ] 


however,  liable  to  be  misled  as  to  their  knowledPlfattribut- 
ing  to  them  what  they  do  not  have,  and  making  them  reason 
about  what  they  do  not  understand.  Again,  we  make  the 
mistake  of  calUng  their  attention  to  considerations  by  which 
they  are  in  no  wise  affected,  such  as  their  future  interests, 
the  happiness  of  their  coming  manhood,  the  opinion  people 
will  have  of  them  when  the}'  are  grown  up.  Such  speeches j^ 
addressed  to  minds  entirety  without  foresight,  are  absoliit^^iyil^ 
unmeaning.  Now  all  the  studies  forced  upon  these  poor 
unfortunates  deal  with  things  like  this,  utterly  foreign  to 
their  minds.  You  may  judge  what  attention  such  subjects 
are  likely  to  receive. 

On  the  Study  of  Words. 
Pedagogues,  who  make  such  an  imposing  display  of  what 
they  teach,  are  paid  to  talk   in   another  strain  than  mine, 
but  their  conduct  shows  that  they  think  as  I  do.     For  after 
all,  what  do  they  teach  their  pupils?     Words,  words,  words. 
Among  all  their  boasted  subjects,  none  are  selected  because 
they  are  useful ;  such  would  be  the  sciences  of  things,  in 
which    these    professors    are    unskilful.      But   they   prefer 
sciences  we  seem  to  know  when  we  know  their  nomencla- 
ture, such  as  heraldry,  geography,  chronology,  languages ; 
studies  so  far  removed  from  human  interests,  and  particu- 
larly from  the  child,  that  it  would  be  wonderful  if  any  of 
them  could  be  of  the  least  use  at  any  time  in  life. 
1/    It  may  cause  surprise  that  I  account  the  study  of  lan- 
Iguages  one  of  the  useless  things  in  education.    But  remember 
j  I  am  speaking  of  the  studies  of  earlier  years,  and  whatever 
;   may  be  said,  I  do  not  believe  that  any  child  except  a  prodigy » 
i    will  ever  learn  two  languages  by  the  time  he  is  twelve  or 
!    fifteen.i 

1  Another  exaggeration  :   the  idea  is  not  to  teach  children  to  speak 
another  language  as  perfectly  as  tkeir  own.    There  are  three  different 


ON  THE   STUDY   OF   W0BD8.  81 

I  admit  that  if  the  study  of  languages  were  only  that 
of  words,  that  is,  of  forms,  and  of  the  sounds  which  express 
them,  it  might  be  suitable  for  children.  But  languages,  by 
changinAtheir  signs,  modify  also  the  ideas  they  represent, 
formed  upon  languages ;  thoughts  take  coloring 
IS.  Reason  alone  is  common  to  all.  In  each 
le  mind  has  its  peculiar  conformation,  and  thisf 
part  the  cause  or  the  effect  of  national  character, 
that  every  nation's  language  follows  the  vicissi- 
that  nation's  morals,  and  is  preserved  or  altered 
with  them,  seems  to  confirm  this  theory. 

Of  these  different  forms,  custom  gives  one  to  the  child, 
and  it  is  the  only  one  he  retains  until  the  age  of  reason.  In 
order  to  have  two,  he  must  be  able  to  compare  ideas ;  and 
how  can  he  do  this  when  he  is  scarcely  able  to  grasp 
them?  Each  object  may  for  him  have  a  thousand  different 
signs,  but  each  idea  can  have  but  one  form ;  he  can  there- 
fore learn  to  speak  only  one  language.  It  is  nevertheless 
maintained  that  he  learns  several ;  this  I  deny.  I  have 
seen  little  prodigies  who  thought  they  could  speak  six  or 
seven :  I  have  heard  them  speak  German  in  Latin,  French, 
and  Italian  idioms  successively.  They  did  indeed  use  five 
or  six  vocabularies,  but  they  never  spoke  anything  but  Ger- 
man. In  short,  you  may  give  children  as  many  synonyms 
as  you  please,  and  you  will  change  only  their  words,  and  not 
their  language  ;  they  will  never  know  more  than  one. 

objects  to  be  attained  in  studying  languages.  First,  this  study  is  meant  to 
render  easy  by  comparison  and  practice  the  knowledge  and  free  use  of 
the  mother  tongue.  Second,  it  is  useful  as  intellectual  gymnastics,  devel- 
oping attention,  reflection,  reasoning,  and  taste.  This  result  is  to  be 
expected  particularly  from  the  study  of  the  ancient  languages.  Third, 
it  lowers  the  barriers  separating  nations,  and  furnishes  valuable  means 
of  intercourse  which  science,  industries,  and  commerce  ^'-annot  afford 
to  do  without.  The  French  have  not  always  shown  wisdom  in  ignoring 
the  language  of  their  neighbors  or  their  rivals. 


82  CONCERNING  EDUCATION. 

To  hide  this  inability  we,  by  preference,  give  them  prac- 
tice in  the  dead  languages,  of  which  there  are  no  longer  any 
unexceptionable  judges.  The  familiar  use  of  these  tongues 
having  long  been  lost,  we  content  ourselves  with  ^itating 
what  we  find  of  them  in  books,  and  call  this  speak^^  them. 
If  such  be  the  Greek  and  Latin  of  the  masterdfcu  may 
judge  what  that  of  the  children  is.  Scarcely  ^ve  they 
learned  by  heart  the  rudiments,  without  in  the  lejBt  under- 
standing them,  before  they  are  taught  to  utter  a  French 
discourse  in  Latin  words ;  and,  when  further  advanced,  to 
string  together  in  prose,  phrases  from  Cicero  and  cantos 
from  Virgil.  Then  they  imagine  they  are  speaking  Latin, 
^^nd  who  is  there  to  contradict  them?^ 
'  \  In  any  study,  words  that  represent  things  are  nothing 
tohout  the  ideas  of  the  things  they  represent.  "We,  however, 
limit  children  to  these  signs,  without  ever  being  able  to  make 
Jijem  understand  the  things  represented.  We  think  we  are 
teaching  a  child  the  description  of  the  earth,  when  he  is  merely 
learning  maps.  We  teach  him  the  names  of  cities,  countries, 
rivers ;  he  has  no  idea  that  they  exist  anywhere  but  on  the 
map  we  use  in  pointing  them  out  to  him.  I  recollect  seeing 
somewhere  a  text-book  on  geography  which  began  thus : 
"What  is  the  world?  A  pasteboard  globe."  Precisely 
such  is  the  geography  of  children.  I  will  venture  to  say  that 
after  two  years  of  globes  and  cosmography  no  child  of  ten, 
by  rules  they  give  him,  could  find  the  way  from  Paris  to 
St.  Denis.  I  maintain  that  not  one  of  them,  from  a  plan  of 
his  father's  garden,  could  trace  out  its  windings  without 
going  astray.  And  yet  these  are  the  knowing  creatures  who 
can  tell  you  exactly  where  Pekin,  Ispahan,  Mexico,  and  all 
the  countries  of  the  world  are. 

1  From  this  passage,  it  is  plain  that  the  objections  lately  raised  by  intel- 
figent  persons  against  the  abuse  of  Latin  conversations  and  verses  are  not 
of  recent  date,  after  all. 


ON  THE   STUDY   OF   WORDS.  88 

I  hear  it  suggested  that  children  ought  to  be  engaged  in 
Itudies  in  which  only  the  eye  is  needed.  This  might  be  true 
if  there  were  studies  in  which  their  eyes  were  not  needed ; 
but  I  know  of  none  such. 

A  still  more  ridiculous  method  obliges  children  to  study 
history,  supposed  to  be  within  their  comprehension  because 
it  is  only  a  collection  of  facts. ^  But  what  do  we  mean  by 
facts  ?  'Do  we  suppose  that  the  relations  out  of  which  historic 
facts  grow  are  so  easily  understood  that  the  minds  of  children  | 
grasp  such  ideas  without  difficulty  ?  Do  we  imagine  that  the] 
true  understanding  of  events  can  be  separated  from  that  ol 
their  causes  and  effects  ?  and  that  the  historic  and  the  mora^ 
are  so  far  asunder  that  the  one  can  be  understood  withoul 
the  other?  If  in  men's  actions  you  see  only  purely  external 
and  physical  changes,  what  do  you  learn  from  history? 
Absolutely  nothing  ;  and  the  subject,  despoiled  of  all  interest, 
no  longer  gives  you  either  pleasure  or  instruction.  If  you 
intend  to  estimate  actions  by  their  moral  relations,  try  to 
make  your  pupils  understand  these  relations,  and  you  will 
discover  whether  history  is  adapted  to  their  years. 

If  there  is  no  science  in  words,  there  is  no  study  especially 
adapted  to  children.  If  they  have  no  real  ideas,  they  have 
no  real  memory  ;  for  I  do  not  call  that  memory  which  retains 
only  impressions.  Of  what  use  is  it  to  write  on  their  minds 
a  catalogue  of  signs  that  represent  nothing  to  them?  In 
learning  the  things  represented,  would  they  not  also  learn 

1  There  is  indeed  a  faulty  method  of  teaching  history,  by  giving  children 
a  dry  list  of  facts,  names,  and  dates.  On  the  other  hand,  to  offer  them 
theories  upon  the  philosophy  of  history  is  quite  as  unprofitable.  Yet  it  is 
not  an  absurd  error,  but  a  duty,  to  teach  them  the  broad  outlines  of  history, 
to  tell  them  of  deeds  of  renown,  of  mighty  works  accomplished,  of  men 
telebrated  for  the  good  or  the  evil  they  have  done;  to  interest  them  in  the 
past  of  humanity,  be  it  melancholy  or  glorious.  By  abuse  of  logic  Rous* 
leau,  in  protesting  against  one  excess,  falls  into  another. 


84  CONCERNING   EDUCATION. 

the  signs?  Why  do  you  give  them  the  useless  trouble  ot 
learning  them  twice?  Besides,  you  create  dangerous  preju- 
dices by  making  them  suppose  that  science  consists  of  words 
meaningless  to  them.  The  first  mere  word  with  which  the 
child  satisfies  himself,  the  first  thing  he  learns  on  the 
authority  of  another  person,  ruins  his  judgment.  Long  must 
he  shine  in  the  eyes  of  unthinking  persons  before  he  can 
repair  such  an  injury  to  himself. 

No  ;  nature  makes  the  child's  brain  so  yielding  that  it  re- 
ceives all  kinds  of  impressions  ;  not  that  we  may  make  his  child- 
hood a  distressing  burden  to  him  by  engraving  on  that  brain 
dates,  names  of  kings,  technical  terms  in  heraldry,  mathe- 
matics, geography,  and  all  such  words,  unmeaning  to  him 
and  unnecessary  to  persons  at  any  age  in  life.  But  all  ideas 
that  he  can  understand,  and  that  are  of  use  to  him,  all  that 
conduce  to  his  happiness  and  that  will  one  day  make  his 
duties  plain,  should  early  write  themselves  there  indelibly,  to 
guide  him  through  life  as  his  condition  and  his  intellect 
require. 

The  memory  of  which  a  child  is  capable  is  far  from  inac- 
tive, even  without  the  use  of  books.  All  he  sees  and  hears 
impresses  him,  and  he  remembers  it.  He  keeps  a  mental 
register  of  people's  sayings  and  doings.  Everything  around 
him  is  the  book  from  which  he  is  continually  but  uncon- 
sciously enriching  his  memory  against  the  time  his  judgment 
can  benefit  by  it.  If  we  intend  rightly  to  cultivate  this  chief 
faculty  of  the  mind,  we  must  choose  these  objects  carefully, 
constantly  acquainting  him  with  such  as  he  ought  to  under- 
stand, and  keeping  back  those  he  ought  not  to  know.  In 
this  way  we  should  endeavor  to  make  his  mind  a  storehouse 
of  knowledge,  to  aid  in  his  education  in  youth,  and  to  direct 
/him  at  all  times. ,  This  method  does  not,  it  is  true,  produce 
/phenomenal  children,  nor  does  it  make  the  reputation  of  their 


ON  THE  STUDY   OF  WORDS.  86 

teachers;  but  it  produces  judicious,  robust  men,  sound  in  '^ 
body  and  in  mind,  who,  although  not  admired  in  youth,  will 
make  themselves  respected  in  manhood. 

£mile  shall  never  learn  anything  by  heart,  not  even  fables! 
such  as  those  of  La  Fontaine,  simple  and  charming  as  they  I 
are.  For  the  words  of  fables  are  no  more  the  fables  them- 
selves than  tlie  words  of  history  are  history  itself.  How  can 
we  be  so  blind  as  to  call  fables  moral  lessons  for  children? 
We  do  not  reflect  that  while  these  stories  amuse  they  also 
mislead  children,  who,  carried  away  by  the  fiction,  miss  the 
truth  conveyed  ;  so  that  what  makes  the  lesson  agreeable  also 
makes  it  less  profitable.  Men  may  learn  from  fables,  but 
children  must  be  told  the  bare  truth ;  if  it  be  veiled,  they  do 
not  trouble  themselves  to  lift  the  veil.^ 

Since  nothing  ought  to  be  required  of  children  merely  in 
proof  of  their  obedience,  it  follows  that  they  can  learn  noth- 
ing of  which  they  cannot  understand  the  actual  and  immediate 
advantage,  whether  it  be  pleasant  or  useful.  Otherwise,  what 
motive  will  induce  them  to  learn  it?  The  art  of  conversing 
with  absent  persons,  and  of  hearing  from  them,  of  communi 
eating  to  them  at  a  distance,  without  the  aid  of  another,  our 
feelings,  intentions,  and  wishes,  is  an  art  whose  value  may 
be  explained  to  children  of  almost  any  age  whatever.     By 

1  Rousseau  here  analyzes  several  of  La  Fontaine's  fables,  to  show  the 
immorality  and  the  danger  of  their  "  ethics."  He  dwells  particularly  upon 
the  fable  of  the  Fox  and  the  Crow.  In  this  he  is  right;  the  morality  of  the 
greater  part  of  these  fables  leaves  much  to  be  desired.  But  there  is  noth- 
ing to  prevent  the  teacher  from  making  the  applicatioh.  The  memory  of  a 
child  is  pliable  and  vigorous ;  not  to  cultivate  it  would  be  doing  him  great 
injustice.  We  need  not  say  that  a  true  teacher  not  only  chooses,  but  by  his 
instructions  explains  and  rectifies  everything  he  requires  his  pupil  to  read 
or  to  learn  by  heart.  With  this  reservation  one  cannot  but  admire  this 
aversion  of  Rousseau's  for  parrot-learning,  word-worship,  and  exclusive 
cultivation  of  the  memory.  In  a  few  pages  may  here  be  found  a  complete 
philosophy  of  teaching,  adapted  to  the  regeneration  of  a  people. 


\ 


86  CONCBRNLNG  EDUCATION. 

what  astonishing  process  has  this  useful  and  agreeable  art 
become  so  irksome  to  them  ?  They  have  been  forced  to  learn 
it  in  spite  of  themselves,  and  to  use  it  in  ways  they  cannot 
understand.  A  child  is  not  anxious  to  perfect  the  instrument 
used  in  tormenting  him ;  but  make  the  same  thing  minister 
to  his  pleasures,  and  you  cannot  prevent  him  from  using  it. 

Much  attention  is  paid  to  finding  out  the  best  methods  of 
teaching  children  to  read.  We  invent  printing-offices  and 
charts ;  we  turn  a  child's  room  into  a  printer's  estabUsh- 
ment.^  Locke  proposes  teaching  children  to  read  bj'  means 
of  dice  ;  a  briUiant  contrivance  indeed,  but  a  mistake  as  well. 
A  better  thing  than  all  these,  a  thing  no  one  thinks  of,  is  the 
desire  to  learn.  Give  a  child  this  desire,  and  you  will  not 
need  dice  or  reading  lotteries  ;  any  device  will  serve  as  well. 
If,  on  the  plan  I  have  begun  to  lay  down,  you  follow  rules 
exactly  contrary  to  those  most  in  fashion,  you  will  not  attract 
and  bewilder  your  pupil's  attention  by  distant  places,  chmates, 
and  ages  of  the  world,  going  to  the  ends  of  the  earth  and 
into  the  very  heavens  themselves,  but  will  make  a  point  of 
keeping  it  fixed  upon  himself  and  what  immediately  concerns 
him ;  and  by  this  plan  you  will  find  him  capable  of  percep- 
tion, memory,  and  even  reasoning ;  this  is  the  order  of 
nature.^     In  proportion  as  a  creature  endowed  with  sensa- 

1  Rousseau  here  alludes  to  the  typographical  lottery  invented  by  Louis 
Dumas,  a  French  author  of  the  eighteenth  century.  It  was  an  imitation  of 
a  printing-office,  and  was  intended  to  teach,  in  an  agreeable  way,  not  only 
reading,  but  even  grammar  and  spelling.  There  may  be  good  features  in 
all  these  systems,  but  we  certainly  cannot  save  the  child  all  trouble;  we 
ought  to  let  him  understand  that  work  must  be  in  earnest.  Besides,  as 
moralists  and  teachers,  we  ought  not  to  neglect  giving  children  some  kinds 
of  work  demanding  application.  They  will  be  in  better  spirits  for  recrea- 
tion hours  after  study. 

2  It  is  well  to  combine  the  two  methods ;  to  keep  the  child  occupied  with 
what  immediately  concerns  him,  and  to  interest  him  also  in  what  is  more 
remote,  whether  in  space  or  in  time.    He  ought  not  to  become  too  positive, 


ON  THE   STUDY   OF  WORDS.  87 

tion  becomes  active,  it  acquires  discernment  suited  to  its 
powers,  and  the  surplus  of  strength  needed  to  preserve  it 
is  absolutely  necessary  in  developing  that  speculative  faculty 
which  uses  the  same  surplus  for  other  ends.  If,  then,  you 
mean  to  cultivate  your  pupil's  understanding,  cultivate  the 
strength  it  is  intended  to  govern.  Give  him  constant  physi- 
cal exercise ;  make  his  body  sound  and  robust,  that  you  may 
make  him  wise  and  reasonable.  Let  him  be  at  work  doing 
something  ;  let  him  run,  shout,  be  always  in  motion  ;  let  him 
be  a  man  in  vigor,  and  he  will  the  sooner  become  one  in 
reason. 

You  would  indeed  make  a  mere  animal  of  him  by  this 
method  if  you  are  continually  directing  him,  and  saying, 
"Go;  come;  stay;  do  this ;  stop  doing  that."  If  your 
head  is  always  to  guide  his  arm,  his  own  head  will  be  of  no 
use  to  him.  But  recollect  our  agreement ;  if  3"0u  are  a  mere 
pedant,  there  is  no  use  in  your  reading  what  I  write. 

To  imagine  that  physical  exercise  injures  mental  opera- 
tions is  a  wretched  mistake  ;  the  two  should  move  in  unison, 
and  one  ought  to  regulate  the  other. 

My  pupil,  or  rather  nature's  pupil,  trained  from  the  first 
to  depend  as  much  as  possible  on  himself,  is  not  continually 
running  to  others  for  advice.  Still  less  does  he  make  a  dis- 
play of  his  knowledge.  On  the  other  hand,  he  judges,  he 
foresees,  he  reasons,  upon  everything  that  iromediately  con- 
cerns him  ;  he  does  not  prate,  but  acts.  He  is  little  informed 
as  to  what  is  going  on  in  the  world,  but  knows  very  well  what 
he  ought  to  do,  and  how  to  do  it.  Incessantly  in  motion, 
he  cannot  avoid  observing  many  things,  and  knowing  many 
effects.     He  early  gains  a  wide  experience,  and  takes  his  les- 

nor  yet  should  he  be  chimerical.  The  "order  of  nature "  itself  has  pro- 
vided for  this,  by  making  the  child  inquisitive  about  things  around  him, 
and  at  the  same  time  about  things  far  away. 


88  CONCERNING  EDUCATION. 

sons  from  nature,  not  from  men.  He  instructs  himself  all 
the  better  for  discovering  nowhere  any  intention  of  instruct- 
ing him.  Thus,  at  the  same  time,  body  and  mind  are  exer- 
cised. Always  carrying  out  his  own  ideas,  and  not  another 
person's,  two  processes  are  simultaneously  going  on  within 
him.  As  he  grows  robust  and  strong,  he  becomes  intelligent 
and  judicious.  ^ 

In  this  way  he  will  one  day  have  those  two  excellences,  — 
thought  incompatible  indeed,  but  characteristic  of  nearly  all 
great  men,  —  strength  of  body  and  strength  of  mind,  the 
reason  of  a  sage  and  the  vigor  of  an  athlete. 

I  am  reconamending  a  difficult  art  to  you,  young  teacher, — 
the  art  of  governing  without  rules,  and  of  doing  everything 
by  doing  nothing  at  all.  I  grant,  that  at  your  age,  this  art 
lis  not  to  be  expected  of  you.  It  will  not  enable  you,  at  the 
outset,  to  exhibit  your  shining  talents,  or  to  make  yourself 
prized  by  parents ;  but  it  is  the  only  one  that  will  succeed. 
To  be  a  sensible  man,  your  pupil  must  first  have  been  a 
little  scapegrace.  The  Spartans  were  educated  in  this  way  *, 
not  tied  down  to  books,  but  obliged  to  steal  their  dinners  ;  ^ 
and  did  this  produce  men  inferior  in  understanding?  Who 
does  not  remember  their  forcible,  pithy  sayings?  Trained 
to  conquer,  they  worsted  their  enemies  in  every  kind  of  en- 
counter ;  and  the  babbling  Athenians  dreaded  their  sharp 
speeches  quite  as  much  as  their  valor. 

In  stricter  systems  of  education,  the  teacher  commands 
and  thinks  he  is  governing  the  child,  who  is,  after  all,  the 
real  master.  What  you  exact  from  him  he  employs  as  means 
to  get  from  you  what  he  wants.     By  one  hour  of  diligence  he 

1  This  expresses  rather  too  vehemently  a  true  idea.  Do  not  try  to  impart 
a  rigid  education  whose  apparent  correctness  hides  grave  defects.  Allow 
free  course  to  the  child's  instinctive  activity  and  turbulence;  let  nature 
speak ;  do  not  crave  reserve  and  fastidiousness  at  the  expense  of  frankness 
and  vigor  of  mind.    This  is  what  the  writer  really  means. 


ON  THE   STUDY   OF   WORDS.  89 

can  Duy  a  week's  indulgence.  At  every  moment  you  have 
to  make  terms  with  him.  These  bargains,  which  you  pro- 
pose in  your  way,  and  which  he  fulfils  in  his  own  way, 
always  turn  out  to  the  advantage  of  his  whims,  especially 
when  you  are  so  careless  as  to  make  stipulations  which  will 
be  to  his  advantage  whether  he  carries  out  his  share  of  the 
bargain  or  not.  Usually,  the  child  reads  the  teacher's  mind 
better  than  the  teacher  reads  his.  This  is  natural ;  for  all 
the  sagacity  the  child  at  liberty  would  use  in  self-preserva- 
tion he  now  uses  to  protect  himself  from  a  tyrant's  chains ; 
while  the  latter,  having  no  immediate  interest  in  knowing  the 
child's  mind,  follows  his  own  advantage  by  leaving  vanity 
and  indolence  unrestrained. 

Do  otherwise  with  your  pupil.     Let  him  always  suppose  /  ^ 
himself  master,  while  you  really  are  master.     No  subjection  '/ / 
is  so  perfect  as  that  which  retains  the  appearance  of  liberty ;  / '  • 
for  thus  the  will  itself  is  made  captive.     Is  not  the  helpless, 
unknowing  child  at  your  mercy  ?     Do  you  not,  so  far  as  he  f 
is  concerned,  control  everything  around  him?    Have  you  not  | 
power  to  influence  him  as  you  please  ?    Are  not  his  work,  his  I 
play,  his  pleasure,  his  pain,  in  your  hands,  whether  he  knows 
it  or  not?  \ 

Doubtless  he  ought  to  do  only  what  he  pleases  ;  but  your  /^ 
choice  ought  to  control  his  wishes.     He  ought   to  take  no 
step  that  you  have  not  directed;  he  ought  not  to  open  his 
lips  without  your  knowing  what  he  is  about  to  say. 

In  this  case  he  may,  without  fear  of  debasing  his  mind, 
devote  himself  to  exercises  of  the  body.  Instead  of  sharp- 
ening his  wits  to  escape  an  irksome  subjection,  you  will  ob- 
serve him  wholly  occupied  in  finding  out  in  everything  around 
him  that  part  best  adapted  to  his  present  well-being.  You 
will  be  amazed  at  the  subtilty  of  his  contrivances  for  appro- 
priating to  himself  all  the  objects  within  the  reach  of  his 


/ 


90  CONCERNING  EDUCATION. 

understanding,  and  for  enjoying  everything  without  regard 
to  other  people's  opinions. 

By  thus  leaving  him  free,  you  will  not  foster  his  caprices. 
If  he  never  does  anything  that  does  not  suit  him,  he  will 
soon  do  only  what  he  ought  to  do.  And,  although  his  body 
be  never  at  rest,  still,  if  he  is  caring  for  his  present  and  per- 
ceptible interests,  all  the  reason  of  which  he  is  capable  will 
develop  far  better  and  more  appropriately  than  in  studies 
purely  speculative. 

"  As  he  does  not  find  you  bent  on  thwarting  him,  does  not 
distrust  you,  has  nothing  to  hide  from  you,  he  will  not 
» deceive  you  or  tell  you  lies.  He  wiU  fearlessly  show  him- 
self to  you  just  as  he  is.  You  may  study  him  entirely  at 
your  ease,  and  plan  lessons  for  him  which  he  will  aU  uncon- 
sciously receive. 

He  will  not  pry  with  suspicious  curiosity  into  your  affairs, 
and  feel  pleasure  when  he  finds  you  in  fault.  This  is  one 
of  our  most  serious  disadvantages.  As  I  have  said,  one  of 
a  child's  first  objects  is  to  discover  the  weaknesses  of  those 
V  who  have  control  of  him.  This  disposition  may  produce  ill- 
nature,  but  does  not  arise  from  it,  but  from  their  desire  to 
escape  an  irksome  bondage.  Oppressed  by  the  yoke  laid 
upon  them,  children  endeavor  to  shake  it  off ;  and  the  faults 
they  find  in  their  teachers  yield  them  excellent  means  for 
doing  this.  But  they  acquire  the  habit  of  observing  faults 
in  others,  and  of  enjoying  such  discoveries.  This  source  of 
evil  evidently  does  not  exist  in  ^mile.  Having  no  interest 
to  serve  by  discovering  my  faults,  he  will  not  look  for  them 
in  me,  and  will  have  little  temptation  to  seek  them  in  other 
people. 

This  course  of  conduct  seems  difficult  because  we  do  not 
reflect  upon  it ;  but  taking  it  altogether,  it  ought  not  to  be  so. 
I  am  justified  in  supposing  that  you  know  enough  to  under- 


PHYSICAL  TRAINING.  91      . 

stand  the  business  you  have  undertaken ;  that  you  know  the 
natural  progress  of  the  human  mind;  that  you  understand 
studying  mankind  in  general  and  in  individual  cases  ;  that 
among  all  the  objects  interesting  to  his  age  that  you  mean  to 
show  your  pupil,  you  know  beforehand  which  of  them  will 
influence  his  will. 

Now  if  you  have  the  appliances,  and  know  just  how  to  use 
them,  are  you  not  master  of  the  operation  ? 

You  object  that  children  have  caprices,  but  in  this  you  are  *- 
mistaken.  These  caprices  result  from  faulty  discipline,  and 
are  not  natural.  The  children  have  been  accustomed  either  ^ 
to  obey  or  to  command,  and  I  have  said  a  hundred  times  that 
neither  of  these  two  things  is  necessary.  Your  pupil  will 
therefore  have  only  such  caprices  as  you  give  him,  and  it  is 
just  you  should  be  punished  for  your  own  faults.  But  do 
you  ask  how  these  are  to  be  remedied  ?  It  can  still  be  done 
by  means  of  better  management  and  much  patience. 

Physical  Training. 

Man's  first  natural  movements  are  for  the  purpose  of 
comparing  himself  with  whatever  surrounds  him  and  finding 
in  each  thing  those  sensible  qualities  likely  to  aflect  himself. 
His  first  study  is,  therefore,  a  kind  of  experimental  physics 
relating  to  his  own  preservation.  From  this,  before  he  has 
fully  understood  his  place  here  on  earth,  he  is  turned  aside 
to  speculative  studies.  While  yet  his  delicate  and  pliable 
organs  can  adapt  themselves  to  the  objects  upon  which  they 
are  to  act,  while  his  senses,  still  pure,  are  free  from  illusion, 
it  is  time  to  exercise  both  in  their  peculiar  functions,  and  to 
learn  the  perceptible  relations  between  ourselves  and  out- 
ward things.  Since  whatever  enters  the  human  understand-  ^ 
Ing  enters  by  the  senses,  man's  primitive  reason  is  a  reason 


92  CONCERNING   EDUCATION. 

of  the  senses,  serving  as  foundation  for  the  reason  of  the 
vr  intellect.  Our  first  teachers  in  philosophy  are  our  own 
feet,  hands,  and  eyes.  To  substitute  books  for  these  is 
teaching  us  not  to  reason,  but  to  use  the  reason  of  another ; 
to  believe  a  great  deal,  and  to  know  nothing  at  all. 

In  practising  an  art  we  must  begin  by  procuring  appar* 
atus  for  it;  and  to  use  this  apparatus  to  advantage,  we 
must  have  it  solid  enough  to  bear  use.  In  learning  to 
think,  we  must  therefore  employ  our  members,  our  senses, 
our  organs,  all  which  are  the  apparatus  of  our  understanding. 
^--'And  to  use  them  to  the  best  advantage,  the  body  which 
_v  furnishes  them  must  be  sound  and  robust.  Our  reason  is 
therefore  so  far  from  being  independent  of  the  body,  that 
a  good  constitution  renders  mental  operations  easy  and 
accurate.  In  indicating  how  the  long  leisure  of  childhood 
ought  to  be  employed,  I  am  entering  into  particulars  which 
maybe  thought  ridiculous.  "  Pretty  lessons,"  you  will  tell 
me,  "which  you  yourself  criticize  for  teaching  only  what 
there  is  no  need  of  learning !  Why  waste  time  in  instruc- 
tions which  always  come  of  their  own  accord,  and  cost  neither 
care  nor  trouble  ?  What  child  of  twelve  does  not  know  all 
you  are  going  to  teach  yours,  and  all  that  his  masters 
have  taught  him  besides  ?  " 

Grentlemen,  you  are  mistaken.  I  am  teaching  my  pupil 
a  very  tedious  and  diflScult  art,  which  yours  certainly  have 
not  acquired,  —  that  of  being  ignorant.  For  the  knowledge 
of  one  who  gives  himself  credit  for  knowing  only  what  he 
really  does  know  reduces  itself  to  a  very  small  compass. 
You  are  teaching  science  :  very  good ;  I  am  dealing  with  the 
instrument  by  which  science  is  acquired.  All  who  have 
reflected  upon  the  mode  of  life  among  the  ancients  attribute 
to  gymnastic  exercises  that  vigor  of  body  and  mind  which 
BO  notably  distinguishes  them  from  us  moderns.    Montaigne's 


CLOTHENQ.  93 

support  of  this  opinion  shows  that  he  had  fully  adopted  it ; 
he  returns  to  it  again  and  again,  in  a  thousand  ways. 
Speaking  of  the  education  of  a  child,  he  says,  *' We  must 
make  his  mind  robust  by  hardening  his  muscles  ;  inure  him 
to  pain  by  accustoming  him  to  labor ;  break  him  by  severe 
exercise  to  the  keen  pangs  of  dislocation,  of  colic,  of  other 
ailments."  The  wise  Locke, ^  the  excellent  Rollin,^  the 
learned  Fleury,^  the  pedantic  de  Crouzas,"*  so  different  in 
everything  else,  agree  exactly  on  this  point  of  abundant 
physical  exercise  for  children.  It  is  the  wisest  lesson  they 
ever  taught,  but  the  one  that  is  and  always  will  be  most 
neglected. 

Olothingr. 

As  to  clothing,  the  limbs  of  a  growing  body  should  be  '^ 
entirely  free.      Nothing  should  cramp  their  movements  or 
their  growth  ;  nothing  should  fit  too  closely  or  bind  the  body  ; 
there  should  be  no  ligatures  whatever.     The  present  French 
dress  cramps  and  disables  even  a  man,  and  is  especially] 
injurious  to  children.    It  arrests  the  circulation  of  the  hmnors ;  f 
they  stagnate  from  an  inaction  made  worse  by  a  sedentary 
life.     This  corruption  of  the  humors  brings  on  the  scurvy, 
a  disease  becoming  every  day  more  common  among  us,  but 
unknown  to  the  ancients,  protected  from  it  by  their  drees  and 
their  mode  of  life.     The  hussar  dress  does  not  remedy  this 

1  An  English  philosopher,  who  died  in  1704.  He  wrote  a  very  celebrated 
"  Treatise  on  the  Education  of  Children." 

2  A  celebrated  professor,  Rector  of  the  University  of  Paris,  who  died  in 
1741.    He  left  a  number  of  works  on  education. 

*  An  abbd  of  the  seventeenth  century  who  wrote  a  much  valued  "  His- 
tory of  the  Church,"  and  a  "  Treatise  on  the  Method  and  Choice  of 
Studies."    He  was  tutor  to  Count  Vermandois,  natural  son  to  Louis  XTV. 

^  A  professor  of  mathematics,  born  at  Lausanne,  tutor  to  Prince  Fred* 
wrick  of  Hesse  CasseL 


94  CONCERNING  EDUCATION. 

inconvenience,  but  increases  it,  since,  to  save  the  child  a  fcTl 
tgatures,  it  compresses  the  entire  body.  It  would  be  better 
to  keep  children  in  frocks  as  long  as  possible,  and  then  put 
them  into  loosely  fitting  clothes,  without  trying  to  shape  their 
figures  and  thereby  spoil  them.  Their  defects  of  body  and 
of  mind  nearly  all  spring  from  the  same  cause  :  we  are  trying 
to  make  men  of  them  before  their  time. 

Of  bright  and  dull  colors,  the  former  best  please  a  child's 
taste ;  such  colors  are  also  most  becoming  to  them ;  and  I 
see  no  reason  why  we  should  not  in  such  matters  consult 
these  natural  coincidences.  But  the  moment  a  material  is 
preferred  because  it  is  richer,  the  child's  mind  is  corrupted 
by  luxury,  and  by  all  sorts  of  whims.  Preferences  like  this 
do  not  spring  up  of  their  own  accord.  It  is  impossible 
to  say  how  much  choice  of  dress  and  the  motives  of  this 
choice  innuence  education.  Not  only  do  thoughtless  mothers 
promise  children  fine  clothes  by  way  of  reward,  but  foolish 
tutors  threaten  them  with  coarser  and  simpler  dress  as  pun- 
ishment. "If  you  do  not  study  your  lessons,  if  you  dc 
not  take  better  care  of  your  clothes,  you  shall  be  dressed 
like  that  little  rustic."  This  is  saying  to  him,  "  Rest  assured 
that  a  man  is  nothing  but  what  his  clothes  make  him  ;  your 
»wn  worth  depends  on  what  you  wear."  Is  it  surprising 
that  sage  lessons  like  this  so  influence  young  men  that  they 
care  for  nothing  but  ornament,  and  judge  of  merit  by  outward 
appearance  onlj'^  ?  i 

-  Generally,  children  are  too  warmly  clothed,  especially  in 
their  earlier  years.  They  should  be  inured  to  cold  rathei 
than  heat;  severe  cold  never  incommodes  them  when  they 
-encounter  it  early.  But  the  tissue  of  their  skin,  as  yet 
yielding  and  tender,  allows  too  free  passage  to  perspiration, 
and  exposure  to  great  heat  invariably  weakens  them.  It  has 
been  observed  that  more  children  die  in  August  than  in  any 


SLEEP.  95 

Dther  month.  Besides,  if  we  compare  northern  and  southern 
races,  we  find  that  excessive  cold,  rather  than  excessive 
heat,  makes  man  robust.  In  proportion  as  the  child  grows 
and  his  fibres  are  strengthened,  accustom  him  gradually  to 
withstand  heat ;  and  by  degrees  you  will  without  risk  train 
him  to  endure  the  glowing  temperature  of  the  torrid  zone. 

Sleep. 

Children  need  a  great  deal  of  sleep  because  they  take  a 
great  deal  of  exercise.  The  one  acts  as  corrective  to  the 
other,  so  that  both  are  necessary.  As  nature  teaches  us, 
night  is  the  time  for  rest.  Constant  observation  shows  that 
sleep  is  softer  and  more  profound  while  the  sun  is  below  the 
horizon.  The  heated  air  does  not  so  perfectly  tranquillize 
our  tired  senses.  For  this  reason  the  most  salutary  habit  is 
to  rise  and  to  go  to  rest  with  the  sun.  In  our  climate  man, 
and  animals  generally,  require  more  sleep  in  winter  than  in 
summer.  But  our  mode  of  life  is  not  so  simple,  natural,  and 
uniform  that  we  can  make  this  regular  habit  a  necessity. 
We  must  without  doubt  submit  to  regulations  ;  but  it  is  most 
important  that  we  should  be  able  to  break  them  without  risk 
when  occasion  requires.  Do  not  then  imprudently  soften 
your  pupil  by  letting  him  lie  peacefully  asleep  without  ever 
being  disturbed.  At  first  let  him  yield  without  restraint  to 
the  law  of  nature,  but  do  not  forget  that  in  our  day  we  must 
be  superior  to  this  law ;  we  must  be  able  to  go  late  to  rest 
and  rise  early,  to  be  awakened  suddenly,  to  be  up  all  night, 
without  discomfort.  By  beginning  early,  and  by  always 
proceeding  slowly,  we  form  the  constitution  by  the  very 
practices  which  would  ruin  it  if  it  were  already  established. 

It  is  important  that  your  pupil  should  from  the  first  be 
accustomed  to  a  hard  bed,  so  that  he  may  find  none  uncom- 
tortable. 


96  CONCEENING  EDUCATION. 

Generally,  a  life  of  hardship,  when  we  are  used  to  it,  gives 
us  a  far  greater  number  of  agreeable  sensations  than  does  a 
life  of  ease,  which  creates  an  infinite  number  of  unpleasant 
ones.  One  too  deUcately  reared  can  find  sleep  only  upon  a 
bed  of  down  ;  one  accustomed  to  bare  boards  can  find  it  any- 
where. No  bed  is  hard  to  him  who  falls  asleep  as  soon  as 
his  head  touches  the  pillow.  The  best  bed  is  the  one  which 
brings  the  best  sleep.  Throughout  the  day  no  slaves  from 
Persia,  but  Emile  and  I,  will  prepare  our  beds.  When  we 
are  tilling  the  ground  we  shall  be  making  them  soft  for  oui 
plumber. 

•    Exercise  of  the  Senses. 

A  CHILD  has  not  a  man's  stature,  strength,  or  reason  ;  but 
he  sees  and  hears  almost  or  quite  as  well.  His  sense  of  taste 
is  as  keen,  though  he  does  not  enjoy  it  as  a  pleasure. 

Our  senses  are  the  first  powers  perfected  in  us.  They  are 
the  first  that  should  be  cultivated  and  the  only  ones  forgotten, 
or  at  least,  the  most  neglected. 

To  exercise  the  senses  is  not  merely  to  use  them,  but  to 
learn  how  to  judge  correctly  by  means  of  them ;  we  may  say, 
to  learn  how  to  feel.  For  we  cannot  feel,  or  hear,  or  see, 
otherwise  tiian  as  we  have  been  taught. 

There  is  a  kind  of  exercise,  purely  natural  and  mechanical, 
that  renders  the  body  robust  without  injuring  the  mind.  Of 
this  description  are  swimming,  running,  leaping,  spinning 
tops,  and  throwing  stones.  All  these  are  well  enough  ;  but 
7  have  we  nothing  but  arms  and  legs  ?  Have  we  not  eyes  and 
ears  as  well  ?  and  are  they  of  no  use  while  the  others  are  em- 
ployed? Use,  then,  not  only  your  bodily  strength,  but  all 
the  senses  which  direct  it.  Make  as  much  of  each  as  possi- 
ble, and  verify  the  impressions  of  one  by  those  of  another. 
Measure,  count,  weigh,  and  compare.     Use  no  strength  till 


THE  SENSE  OF   TOUCH.  97 

after  you  have  calculated  the  resistance  it  will  meet.  Be 
careful  to  estimate  the  effect  before  you  use  the  means.  In- 
terest the  child  in  never  making  any  useless  or  inadequate 
trials  of  strength.  If  you  accustom  him  to  forecast  the^^ 
effect  of  every  movement,  and  to  correct  his  errors  by  expe- 
rience, is  it  not  certain  that  the  more  he  does  the  better  his- 
judgment  will  be  ? 

K  the  lever  he  uses  in  moving  a  heavy  weight  be  too  long, 
he  will  expend  too  much  motion ;  if  too  short,  he  will  not 
have  power  enough.  Experience  will  teach  him  to  choose 
one  exactly  suitable.  Such  practical  knowledge,  then,  is  not 
beyond  his  years.  If  he  wishes  to  carry  a  burden  exactly  as 
heavy  as  his  strength  will  bear,  without  the  test  of  first  lift- 
ing it,  must  he  not  estimate  its  weight  by  the  eye?  If  he 
understands  comparing  masses  of  the  same  material  but  of 
different  size,  let  him  choose  between  masses  of  the  same 
size  but  of  different  material.  This  will  oblige  him  to  com- 
pare them  as  to  specific  gravity.  I  have  seen  a  well-educated 
young  man  who,  until  he  had  tried  the  experiment,  would 
not  believe  that  a  pail  fall  of  large  chips  weighs  less  than  it 
does  when  full  of  water. 

*  The  Sense  of  Touch. 

We  have  not  equal  control  of  all  our  senses.  One  of 
^hem,  the  sense  of  touch,  is  in  continual  action  so  long  as 
we  are  awake.  Diffused  over  the  entire  surface  of  the  body, 
it  serves  as  a  perpetual  sentinel  to  warn  us  of  what  is  likely 
to  harm  us.  By  the  constant  use  of  this  sense,  voluntary 
or  otherwise,  we  gain  our  earliest  experience.  It  therefore 
stands  less  in  need  of  special  cultivation.  We  observe  how- 
ever, that  the  blind  have  a  more  delicate  and  accurate  touch 
than  we,  because,  not  having  sight  to  guide  them,  they 
depend  upon  touch  for  the  judgments  we  form  with  the  aid 


98  CONCERNING   EDUCATION. 

of  sight.  Why  then  do  we  not  train  ourselves  to  walk,  like 
them,  in  the  dark,  to  recognize  by  the  touch  all  bodies  we 
can  reach,  to  judge  of  objects  around  us,  in  short,  to  do  by 
night  and  in  the  dark  aU  they  do  in  daytime  without  eye- 
sight? So  long  as  the  sun  shines,  we  have  the  advantage  of 
them ;  but  they  can  guide  us  in  darkness.  We  are  blind 
during  half  our  life -time,  with  this  difference,  that  the  really 
blind  can  always  guide  themselves,  whereas  we  dare  not 
take  a  step  in  the  dead  of  night.  You  may  remind  me 
that  we  have  artificial  light.  What !  must  we  always  use 
machines  ?  Who  can  insure  their  being  always  at  hand  when 
we  need  them  ?  For  my  part,  I  prefer  that  !fimile,  instead 
of  keeping  his  eyes  in  a  chandler's  shop,  should  have  them 
at  the  ends  of  his  fingers. 

As  much  as  possible,  let  him  be  accustomed  to  play  about 
at  night.  This  advice  is  more  important  than  it  would  seem. 
For  men,  and  sometimes  for  animals,  night  has  naturally  its 
terrors.  Rarely  do  wisdom,  or  wit,  or  courage,  free  us  from 
paying  tribute  to  these  teiTors.  I  have  seen  reasoners,  free- 
thinkers, philosophers,  soldiers,  who  were  utterly  fearless  in 
broad  daylight,  tremble  like  women  at  the  rustle  of  leaves 
by  night.  Such  terrors  are  supposed  to  be  the  result  of 
nursery  tales.  The  real  cause  is  the  same  thing  which  makes 
.  the  deaf  distrustful,  and  the  lower  classes  superstitious  ;  and 
» J  that  is,  ignorance  of  objects  and  events  around  us. 
i  The  cause  of  the  evil,  once  found,  suggests  the  remedy. 
In  everything,  habit  benumbs  the  imagination ;  new  objects 
alone  quicken  it  again.  Every-day  objects  keep  active  not 
the  imagination,  but  the  memory;  whence  the  saying  "  Ab 
assuetis  non  fit  passio."  i  For  onlyjhe  iTHPg^'^ati2I!_^Hr  -^^ 
on  fire  our  passions.  If,  therefore,  you  wish  to  cure  any  one 
of  the  fear  of  darkness,  do  not  reason  with  him.     Take  him 

I  *  *  Passion  is  not  bom  of  familiar  things.*' 


THE  SENSE  OF  TOUCH.  99 

into  the  dark  often,  and  you  may  be  sure  that  will  do  him 
more  good  than  philosophical  arguments.  When  at  work  on 
the  roofs  of  houses,  slaters  do  not  feel  their  heads  swim; 
and  those  accustomed  to  darkness  do  not  fear  it  at  all. 

There  will  be  one  advantage  of  our  plays  in  the  dark. 
But  if  you  mean  them  to  be  successful,  you  must  make  them 
as  gay  as  possible.  Darkness  is  of  all  things  the  most 
gloomy  ;  so  do  not  shut  your  child  up  in  a  dungeon.  When 
he  goes  into  the  dark  make  him  laugh;  when  he  leaves  it 
make  him  laugh  again ;  and  all  the  time  he  is  there,  let  the 
thought  of  what  he  is  enjoying,  and  what  he  will  find  there 
when  he  returns,  protect  him  from  the  shadowy  terrors  which 
might  otherwise  inhabit  it. 

I  have  heard  some  propose  to  teach  children  not  to  be 
afraid  at  night,  by  surprising  them.  This  is  a  bad  plan,  and 
its  effect  is  contrary  to  the  one  sought :  it  only  makes  them 
more  timid  than  before.  Neither  reason  nor  habit  can 
accustom  us  to  a  present  danger,  the  nature  and  extent  of 
which  we  do  not  know,  nor  can  they  lessen  our  dread  of 
unexpected  things  however  often  we  meet  with  them.  But 
how  can  we  guard  our  pupil  against  such  accidents  ?  I  think 
the  following  is  the  best  plan.  I  will  tell  my  Emile,  "Jf 
any  one  attacks  you  at  night,  you  are  justified  in  defending 
yourself ;  for  your  assailant  gives  you  no  notice  whether  he 
means  to  hurt  you  or  only  to  frighten  you.  As  he  has 
taken  you  at  a  disadvantage,  seize  him  boldly,  no  matter 
what  he  may  seem  to  be.  Hold  liim  fast,  and  if  he  offers 
any  resistance,  hit  him  hard  and  often.  Whatever  he  may 
say  or  do,  never  let  go  until  you  know  exactly  who  he  is. 
The  explanation  will  probably  show  you  that  there  is  nothing 
to  be  afraid  of ;  and  if  you  treat  a  practical  joker  in  this 
way,  he  will  not  be  hkely  to  try  the  same  thing  again." 

Although,  of  all  our  senses,  touch  is  the  one  most  con* 


100  CONCERNING  EDUCATION. 

itantly  used,  still,  as  I  have  said,  its  conclusions  are  the 
most  rude  and  imperfect.  This  is  because  it  is  always  used 
at  the  same  time  with  sight ;  and  because  the  eye  attains  its 
object  sooner  than  the  hand  ;  the  mind  nearly  always  decides 
without  appealing  to  touch.  On  the  other  hand,  the  decis- 
ions of  touch,  just  because  they  are  so  limited  in  their  range, 
are  the  most  accurate.  For  as  they  extend  no  farther  than 
our  arm's  length,  they  correct  the  errors  of  other  senses, 
which  deal  with  distant  objects,  and  scarcely  grasp  these 
objects  at  all,  whereas  all  that  the  touch  perceives  it  per- 
ceives thoroughly.  Besides,  if  to  nerve-force  we  add  muscu- 
lar action,  we  form  a  simultaneous  impression,  and  judge  of 
weight  and  solidity  as  well  as  of  temperature,  size,  and  shape. 
Thus  touch,  which  of  all  our  senses  best  informs  us  concern- 
ing impressions  made  upon  us  by  external  things,  is  the  one 
oftenest  used,  and  gives  us  most  directly  the  knowledge 
necessary  to  our  preservation. 

The  Sense  of  Sight. 

The  sense  of  touch  confines  its  operations  to  a  very  nar- 
row sphere  around  us,  but  those  of  sight  extend  far  beyond ; 
this  sense  is  therefore  Hable  to  be  mistaken.  With  a  single 
glance  a  man  takes  in  half  his  own  horizon,  and  in  these 
myriad  impressions,  and  judgments  resulting  from  them, 
how  is  it  credible  that  there  should  be  no  mistakes  ?  Sight, 
therefore,  is  the  most  defective  of  all  our  senses,  precisely 
because  it  is  most  far-reaching,  and  because  its  operations, 
by  far  preceding  all  others,  are  too  immediate  and  too  vast 
to  receive  correction  from  them.  Besides,  the  very  illusions 
of  perspective  are  needed  to  make  us  understand  extension, 
and  to  help  us  in  comparing  its  parts.  If  there  were  no  false 
appearances,  we  could  see  nothing  at  a  distance ;    if  there 


THE  SENSE  OF   SIGHT;,  :  ,  ;   T    V^'.  \  '\  \ 

were  no  gradations  in  size,  we  could  form  no  estimate  of  dis- 
tance, or  rather  there  would  be  no  distance  at  all.  If  of  two 
trees  the  one  a  hundred  paces  away  seemed  as  large  and  dis- 
tinct as  the  other,  ten  paces  distant,  we  should  place  them 
side  by  side.  If  we  saw  all  objects  in  their  true  dimensions, 
we  should  see  no  space  whatever ;  everything  would  appear 
to  be  directly  beneath  our  eye. 

For  judging  of  the  size  and  distance  of  objects,  sight  has 
only  one  measure,  and  that  is  the  angle  they  form  with  our 
eye.  As  this  is  the  simple  effect  of  a  compound  cause,  the 
judgment  we  form  from  it  leaves  each  particular  case  unde- 
cided or  is  necessarily  imperfect.  For  how  can  I  by  the 
sight  alone  tell  whether  the  angle  which  makes  one  object 
appear  smaller  than  another  is  caused  by  the  really  lesser 
magnitude  of  the  object  or  by  its  greater  distance  from  me  ? 

An  opposite  method  must  therefore  be  pursued.  Instead 
of  relying  on  one  sensation  only,  we  must  repeat  it,  verify  it 
by  others,  subordinate  sight  to  touch,  repressing  the  impetu- 
osity of  the  first  by  the  steady,  even  pace  of  the  second. 
For  lack  of  this  caution  we  measure  very  inaccurately  by  the 
eye,  in  determining  height,  length,  depth,  and  distance. 
That  this  is  not  due  to  organic  defect,  but  to  careless  use, 
is  proved  by  the  fact  that  engineers,  surveyors,  architects, 
masons,  and  painters  generally  have  a  far  more  accurate  eye 
than  we,  and  estimate  measures  of  extension  more  correctly. 
Their  business  gives  them  experience  that  we  neglect  to 
acquire,  and  thus  they  correct  the  ambiguity  of  the  angle  by 
means  of  appearances  associated  with  it,  which  enable  them 
to  determine  more  exactly  the  relation  of  the  two  things  pro- 
ducing the  angle. 

Children  are  easily  led  into  anything  that  allows  uncon- 
strained movement  of  the  body.     There  are  a  thousand  ways  /— 
of  interesting  them  in  measuring,  discovering,  and  estimating 


'ib'8 


eOliPCERNING  EDUCATION. 


distances.  •'  Yonder  is  a  very  tall  cherry-tree  ;  how  can  we 
manage  to  get  some  cherries  ?  Will  the  ladder  in  the  bam 
do  ?  There  is  a  very  wide  brook ;  how  can  we  cross  it  ? 
Would  one  of  the  planks  in  the  yard  be  long  enough  ?  We 
want  to  throw  a  line  from  our  windows  and  catch  some  fish 
in  the  moat  around  the  house  ;  how  many  fathoms  long 
ought  the  line  to  be?  I  want  to  put  up  a  swing  between 
those  two  trees  ;  would  f om-  yards  of  rope  be  enough  for  it  ? 
They  say  that  in  the  other  house  our  room  will  be  twenty- 
five  feet  square  ;  do  you  think  that  will  suit  us  ?  Will  it  be 
larger  than  this  ?  We  are  very  hungry  ;  which  of  those  two 
villages  yonder  can  we  reach  soonest,  and  have  our  dinner?" 

As  the  sense  of  sight  is  the  one  least  easily  separated  from 
the  judgments  of  the  mind,  we  need  a  great  deal  of  time  for 
learning  how  to  see.  We  must  for  a  long  time  compare  sight 
with  touch,  if  we  would  accustom  our  eye  to  report  forms 
and  distances  accurately. 

Without  touch  and  without  progressive  movement,  the 
keenest  eye-sight  in  the  world  could  give  us  no  idea  of 
extent.  To  an  oyster  the  entire  universe  must  be  only  a 
single  point.  Only  by  walking,  feeling,  counting,  and  meas- 
uring, do  we  learn  to  estimate  distances. 

If  we  always  measure  them,  however,  our  eye,  depending 
on  this,  will  never  gain  accuracy.  Yet  the  child  ought  not 
to  pass  too  soon  from  measuring  to  estimating.  It  will  be 
better  for  him,  after  comparing  by  parts  what  he  cannot 
compare  as  wholes,  finally  to  substitute  for  measured  aUquot 
parts  others,  obtained  by  the  eye  alone.  He  should  train 
himself  in  this  manner  of  measuring  instead  of  always 
measuring  with  the  hand.  I  prefer  that  the  very  first 
operations  of  this  kind  should  be  verified  by  actual  meas- 
urements, so  that  he  may  correct  the  mistakes  arising  from 
false  appearances  by  a  better  judgment-     There  are  natural 


DRAWING.  103 

measures,  nearly  the  same  everywhere,  such  as  a  man's 
pace,  the  length  of  his  arm,  or  his  height.  When  the  child 
itt  calculating  the  height  of  the  story  of  a  house,  his  tutor 
may  serve  as  a  unit  of  measure.  In  estimating  the  altitude 
of  a  steeple,  he  may  compare  it  with  that  of  the  neighboring 
houses.  If  he  wants  to  know  how  many  leagues  there  are 
in  a  given  journey,  let  him  reckon  the  number  of  hours 
spent  in  making  it  on  foot.  And  by  all  means  do  none  of 
this  work  for  him  ;  let  him  do  it  himself. 

We  cannot  learn  to  judge  correctly  of  the  extent  and  size 
of  bodies  without  also  learning  to  recognize  their  forms,  and 
even  to  imitate  them.  For  such  imitation  is  absolutely  de- 
pendent on  the  laws  of  perspective,  and  we  cannot  estimate 
extent  from  appearances  without  some  appreciation  of  these 
laws. 

Drawing. 

All  children,  being  natural  imitators,  try  to  draw.  I 
would  have  my  pupil  cultivate  this  art,  not  exactly  for  the 
sake,  of  the  art  itself,  but  to  render  the  eye  true  and  the 
hand  flexible.  In  general,  it  matters  little  whether  he  under- 
stands this  or  that  exercise,  provided  he  acquires  the  mental 
insight,  and  the  manual  skill  furnished  by  the  exercise.  1 
should  take  care,  therefore,  not  to  give  him  a  drawing- 
master,  who  would  give  him  only  copies  to  imitate,  and 
would  make  him  draw  from  drawings  only.  He  shall  have 
no  teacher  but  nature,  no  models  but  real  things.  He  shall 
have  before  his  eyes  the  originals,  and  not  the  paper  which 
represents  them.  He  shall  draw  a  house  from  a  real  house, 
a  tree  from  a  tree,  a  human  figure  from  the  man  himself.  In 
this  way  he  will  accustom  himself  to  observe  bodies  and  their 
appearances,  and  not  mistake  for  accurate  imitations  those 


104  CONCERNING  EDUCATION. 

that  are  false  and  conventional.  I  should  even  object  to  his 
drawing  anything  from  memory,  until  by  frequent  observa- 
tions the  exact  forms  of  the  objects  had  clearly  imprinted 
themselves  on  his  imagination,  lest,  substituting  odd  and 
fantastic  shapes  for  the  real  things,  he  might  Ioosq  the 
knowledge  of  proportion  and  a  taste  for  the  beauties  of 
nature.  I  know  very  well  that  he  will  go  on  daubing  for  a 
long  time  without  making  anything  worth  noticing,  and  will 
be  long  in  mastering  elegance  of  outline,  and  in  acquiring 
the  deft  stroke  of  a  skilled  draughtsman.  He  may  never 
learn  to  discern  picturesque  effects,  or  draw  with  superior 
skill.  On  the  other  hand,  he  will  have  a  more  correct  eye,  a 
truer  hand,  a  knowledge  of  the  real  relations  of  size  and 
shape  in  animals,  plants,  and  natural  bodies,  and  practical 
experience  of  the  illusions  of  perspective.  This  is  precisely 
what  I  intend  ;  not  so  much  that  he  shall  imitate  objects  as 
that  he  shall  know  them.  I  would  rather  have  him  show  me 
an  acanthus  than  a  finished  drawing  of  the  foliation  of  a 
capital. 

'  Yet  I  would  not  allow  my  pupil  to  have  the  enjoyment  of 
this  or  any  other  exercise  all  to  himself.  By  sharing  it  with 
him  I  will  make  him  enjoy  it  still  more.  He  shall  have  no 
competitor  but  myself ;  but  I  will  be  that  competitor  con- 
tinually, and  without  risk  of  jealousy  between  us.  It  will 
only  interest  him  more  deeply  in  his  studies.  Like  him  I 
will  take  up  the  pencil,  and  at  first  I  will  be  as  awkward  as 
he.  If  I  were  an  ApeUes,  even,  I  will  make  myself  a  mere 
dauber. 

I  will  begin  by  sketching  a  man  just  as  a  boy  would  sketch 
one  on  a  wall,  with  a  dash  for  each  arm,  and  with  fingers 
larger  than  the  arms.  By  and  by  one  or  the  other  of  ua 
will  discover  this  disproportion.  We  shall  observe  that  a 
leg  has  thickness,  and  that  this  thickness  is  not  the  same 


DRAWING.  105 

everywhere  ;  that  the  length  of  the  arm  is  determined  by  its 
proportion  to  the  body  ;  and  so  on.  As  we  go  on  I  will  do 
no  more  than  keep  even  step  with  him,  or  will  excel  him  by 
so  little  that  he  can  always  easily  overtake  and  even  surpass 
me.  We  will  get  colors  and  brushes  ;  we  will  try  to  imitate 
not  only  the  outline  but  the  coloring  and  all  the  other  details 
of  objects.  We  will  color ;  we  will  paint ;  we  will  daub ; 
but  in  all  our  daubing  we  shall  be  continually  peering  into  / 
nature,  and  all  we  do  shall  be  done  under  the  eye  of  that/ 
great  teacherT" 

If  we  had  diflSculty  in  finding  decorations  for  our  room, 
we  have  now  all  we  could  desire.  I  will  have  our  drawings 
framed,  so  that  we  can  give  them  no  finishing  touches  ;  and 
this  will  make  us  both  careful  to  do  no  negligent  work.  I 
will  aiTange  them  in  order  around  our  room,  each  drawing 
repeated  twenty  or  thirty  times,  and  each  repetition  showing 
the  author's  progress,  from  the  representation  of  a  house  by 
an  almost  shapeless  attempt  at  a  square,  to  the  accurate 
copy  of  its  front  elevation,  profile,  proportions,  and  shading. 
The  drawings  thus  graded  must  be  interesting  to  ourselves, 
curious  to  others,  and  likely  to  stimulate  further  effort.  I 
will  inclose  the  first  and  rudest  of  these  in  showy  gilded 
frames,  to  set  them  off  well ;  but  as  the  imitation  improves, 
and  when  the  drawing  is  really  good,  I  will  add  only  a  very 
simple  black  frame.  The  picture  needs  no  ornament  but 
itself,  and  it  would  be  a  pity  that  the  bordering  should 
receive  half  the  attention. 

Both  of  us  will  aspire  to  the  honor  of  a  plain  frame,  and 
if  either  wishes  to  condenm  the  other's  drawing,  he  will  say 
it  ought  to  have  a  gilt  frame.  Perhaps  some  day  these 
gilded  frames  will  pass  into  a  proverb  with  us,  and  we  shaU 
be  interested  to  observe  how  many  men  do  justice  to  them* 
selves  by  framing  themselves  in  the  very  same  way. 


106  CONCERNING  EDUCATION. 

Geometry. 

I  HAVE  said  that  geometry  is  not  intelligible  to  children ; 
but  it  is  our  own  fault.  We  do  not  observe  that  their 
method  is  different  from  ours,  and  that  what  is  to  us  the  ai*t 
of  reasoning  should  be  to  them  only  the  art  of  seeing. 
Instead  of  giving  them  our  method,  we  should  do  better  to 
take  theirs.  For  in  our  way  of  learning  geometry,  imagina- 
tion really  does  as  much  as  reason.  When  a  proposition  is 
stated,  we  have  to  imagine  the  demonsti'ation ;  that  is,  we 
have  to  find  upon  what  proposition  already  known  the  new 
one  depends,  and  from  all  the  consequences  of  this  known 
principle  select  just  the  one  required.  According  to  this 
method  the  most  exact  reasoner,  if  not  naturally  inventive, 
must  be  at  fault.  And  the  result  is  that  the  teacher,  instead 
of  making  us  discover  demonstrations,  dictates  them  to  us ; 
instead  of  teaching  us  to  reason,  he  reasons  for  us,  and 
exercises  only  our  memory. 

Make  the  diagrams  accurate  ;  combine  them,  place  them 
one  upon  another,  examine  their  relations,  and  you  will 
discover  the  whole  of  elementary  geometry  by  proceeding 
from  one  observation  to  another,  without  using  either  defi- 
nitions or  problems,  or  any  form  of  demonstration  than 
simple  superposition.  For  my  part,  I  do  not  even  pretend  to 
teach  £mile  geometry  ;  he  shall  teach  it  to  me.  I  will  look 
for  relations,  and  he  shall  discover  them.  I  will  look  for 
them  in  a  way  that  will  lead  him  to  discover  them.  In 
drawing  a  circle,  for  instance,  I  will  not  use  a  compass,  but 
a  point  at  the  end  of  a  cord  which  turns  on  a  pivot.  After- 
ward, when  I  want  to  compare  the  radii  of  a  semi-circle, 
fimile  will  laugh  at  me  and  tell  me  that  the  same  cord,  held 
vrith  the  same  tension,  cannot  describe  unequal  distances. 

When  I  want  to  measure  an  angle  of  sixty  degrees,  I  will 


GEOMETBY.  107 

describe  from  the  apex  of  the  angle  not  an  arc  only,  but  an 
entire  circle ;  for  with  children  nothing  must  be  taken  for 
granted.  I  find  that  the  portion  intercepted  by  the  two  sides 
of  the  angle  is  one-sixth  of  the  whole  circumference.  After- 
ward, from  the  same  centre,  I  describe  another  and  a  larger 
circle,  and  find  that  this  second  arc  is  one-sixth  of  the  new 
circumference.  Describing  a  third  concentric  circle,  I  test  it 
in  the  same  way,  and  continue  the  process  with  other  concen- 
tric circles,  until  Emile,  vexed  at  my  stupidity,  informs  me 
that  every  arc,  great  or  small,  intercepted  by  the  sides  of  this 
angle,  will  be  one-sixth  of  the  circumference  to  which  it 
belongs.  You  see  we  are  almost  read}^  to  use  the  instruments 
intelligently. 

In  order  to  prove  the  angles  of  a  triangle  equal  to  two  right 
angles,  a  circle  is  usually  drawn.  I,  on  the  contrary,  will 
call  Emile's  attention  to  this  in  the  circle,  and  then  ask  him, 
''  Now,  if  the  circle  were  taken  away,  and  the  straight  lines 
were  left,  would  the  size  of  the  angles  be  changed  ?  " 

It  is  not  customary  to  pay  much  attention  to  the  accuracy 
Df  figures  in  geometry ;  the  accuracy  is  taken  for  granted, 
and  the  demonstration  alone  is  regarded.  Emile  and  I  will 
pay  no  heed  to  the  demonstration,  but  aim  to  draw  exactly 
straight  and  even  lines  ;  to  make  a  square  perfect  and  a  circle 
round.  To  test  the  exactness  of  the  figure  we  will  examine 
it  in  all  its  visible  properties,  and  this  will  give  us  daily 
opportunity  of  finding  out  others.  We  will  fold  the  two 
halves  of  a  circle  on  the  line  of  the  diameter,  and  the  halves 
of  a  square  on  its  diagonal,  and  then  examine  our  two  fig- 
ares  to  see  which  has  its  bounding  lines  most  nearly  coinci- 
dent, and  is  therefore  best  constructed.  We  will  debate  as 
to  whether  this  equality  of  parts  exists  in  all  parallelograms, 
trapeziums,  and  like  figures.  Sometimes  we  will  endeavor 
to  guess  at  the  result  of  the  experiment  before  we  make  it, 


108  CONCERNING  EDUCATION. 

and  sometimes  to  find  out  the  reasons  why  it  should  result  as 
it  does. 

Geometry  for  my  pupil  is  only  the  art  of  using  the  rule  and 
compass  weU.  It  should  not  be  confounded  with  drawing, 
which  uses  neither  of  these  instruments.  The  rule  and  com- 
pass are  to  be  kept  under  lock  and  key,  and  he  shall  be 
allowed  to  use  them  only  occasionally,  and  for  a  short  time, 
lest  he  fall  into  the  habit  of  daubing.  But  sometimes,  when 
we  go  for  a  walk,  we  will  take  our  diagrams  with  us,  and  talk 
about  what  we  have  done  or  would  like  to  do. 

Hearing. 

What  has  been  said  as  to  the  two  senses  most  continually 
employed  and  most  important  may  illustrate  the  way  in  which 
I  should  exercise  the  other  senses.  Sight  and  touch  deal 
alike  with  bodies  at  rest  and  bodies  in  motion.  But  as  only 
the  vibration  of  the  air  can  arouse  the  sense  of  hearing,  noise 
or  sound  can  be  made  only  by  a  body  in  motion.  If  every- 
thing were  at  rest,  we  could  not  hear  at  all.  At  night,  when 
we  move  only  as  we  choose,  we  have  nothing  to  fear  except 
from  other  bodies  in  motion.  We  therefore  need  quick  ears 
to  judge  from  our  sensations  whether  the  bod}^  causing  them 
is  large  or  small,  distant  or  near,  and  whether  its  motion  is 
violent  or  slight.  The  air,  when  in  agitation,  is  subject  to 
reverberations  which  reflect  it  back,  produce  echoes,  and 
repeat  the  sensation,  making  the  sonorous  body  heard  else- 
where than  where  it  really  is.  In  a  plain  or  valley,  if  you 
put  your  ear  to  the  ground,  you  can  hear  the  voices  of  men 
and  the  sound  of  horses'  hoofs  much  farther  than  when  stand- 
ing upright.  As  we  have  compared  sight  with  touch,  let  us 
also  compare  it  with  hearing,  and  consider  which  of  the  two 
Impressions,  leaving  the  same  body  at  the  same  time,  soonest 


THE  VOICE.  109 

reaches  its  organ.  When  we  see  the  flash  of  a  cannon  there 
is  still  time  to  avoid  the  shot ;  but  as  soon  as  we  hear  the 
sound  there  is  not  time  ;  the  ball  has  struck.  We  can  esti- 
mate the  distance  of  thunder  by  the  interval  between  the 
flash  and  the  thunderbolt.  Make  the  child  understand  such 
experiments ;  try  those  that  are  within  his  own  power,  and 
discover  others  by  inference.  But  it  would  be  better  he 
should  know  nothing  about  these  things  than  that  you  should 
tell  him  all  he  is  to  know  about  them. 

We  have  an  organ  that  corresponds  to  that  of  hearing,  that 
is,  the  voice.  Sight  has  nothing  like  this,  for  though  we  can 
produce  sounds,  we  cannot  give  off  colors.  We  have  there- 
fore fuller  means  of  cultivating  hearing,  by  exercising  Its 
active  and  passive  organs  upon  one  another. 

The  Voice. 

Man  has  three  kinds  of  voice  :  the  speaking  or  articulate? 
voice,  the  singing  or  melodious  voice,  and  the  pathetic  or! 
accented  voice,  which  gives  language  to  passion  and  animates  \ 
song  and  speech.     A  child  has  these  three  kinds  of  voice  as  I 
well  as  a  man,  but  he  does  not  know  how  to  blend  them  in/ 
the  same  way.     Like  his  elders  he  can  laugh,  cry,  complain ^ 
exclaim,  and  groan.     But  he  does  not  know  how  to  blend 
these  inflections  with  the  two  other  voices.     Perfect  music 
best  accomplishes  this  blending  ;  but  children  are  incapable  of 
such  music,  and  there  is  never  much  feeling  in  their  singing. 
In  speaking,  their  voice  has  little  energy,  and  little  or  no  accent. 

Our  pupil  will  have  even  a  simpler  and  more  uniform  mode 
of  speaking,  because  his  passions,  not  yet  aroused,  will  not 
mingle  then-  language  with  his.  Do  not,  therefore,  give  him 
dramatic  parts  to  recite,  nor  teach  him  to  declaim.  He  will 
have  too  much  sense  to  emphasize  words  he  cannot  under* 
itand,  and  to  express  feelings  he  has  never  known. 


no  CONCERNING   EDUCATION. 

Teach  him  to  speak  evenly,  clearly,  articulately,  to  pro- 
nounce correctly  and  without  affectation,  to  understand  and 
use  the  accent  demanded  by  grammar  and  prosod3\  Train 
him  to  avoid  a  common  fault  acquired  in  colleges,  of  speak- 
ing louder  than  is  necessary ;  have  him  speak  loud  enough 
to  be  understood ;  let  there  be  no  exaggeration  in  anything. 

Aim,  also,  to  render  his  voice  in  singing,  even,  flexible,  and 
sonorous.  Let  his  ear  be  sensitive  to  time  and  harmony,  but 
to  nothing  more.  Do  not  expect  of  him,  at  his  age,  imitative 
and  theatrical  music.  It  would  be  better  if  he  did  not  even 
sing  words.  If  he  wished  to  sing  them,  I  should  try  to 
invent  songs  especially  for  him,  such  as  would  interest  him, 
as  simple  as  his  own  ideas. 


The  Sense  of  Taste. 

Of  our  different  sensations,  those  of  taste  generally  affect 
us  most.  We  are  more  interested  in  judging  correctly  of 
substances  that  are  to  form  part  of  our  own  bodies  than  of 
those  which  merely  surround  us.  We  are  indifferent  to  a 
thousand  things,  as  objects  of  touch,  of  hearing,  or  of  sight ; 
but  there  is  almost  nothing  to  which  our  sense  of  taste  is 
indifferent.  Besides,  the  action  of  this  sense  is  entirely 
physical  and  material.  Imagination  and  imitation  often  give 
a  tinge  of  moral  character  to  the  impressions  of  all  the  other 
senses  ;  but  to  this  it  appeals  least  of  all,  if  at  all.  Gener- 
ally, also,  persons  of  passionate  and  really  sensitive  temper- 
ament, easily  moved  by  the  other  senses,  are  rather  indiffer- 
ent in  regard  to  this.  This  very  fact,  which  seems  in  some 
measure  to  degrade  the  sense  of  taste,  and  to  make  excess 
in  its  indulgence  more  contemptible,  leads  me,  however,  to 
conclude  that  the  surest  way  to  influence  children  is  by 
means  of  their  appetite.     Gluttony,  as  a  motive,  is  far  better 


THE   SENSE   OF   TASTE.  Ill 

Ihan  vanity;  for  gluttony  is  a  natural  appetite  depending 
directly  on  the  senses,  and  vanity  is  the  result  of  opinion, 
is  subject  to  human  caprice  and  to  abuse  of  all  kinds. 
Gluttony  is  the  passion  of  childhood,  and  cannot  hold 
its  own  against  any  other;  it  disappears  on  the  slightest 
occasion. 

Believe  me,  the  child  will  only  too  soon  leave  off  thinking 
of  his  appetite ;  for  when  his  heart  is  occupied,  his  palate 
will  give  him  little  concern.  When  he  is  a  man,  a  thousand 
impulsive  feelings  will  divert  his  mind  from  gluttony  to 
vanity ;  for  this  last  passion  alone  takes  advantage  of  all 
others,  and  ends  by  absorbing  them  all.  I  have  sometimes 
watched  closely  those  who  are  especially  fond  of  dainties ; 
who,  as  soon  as  they  awoke,  were  thinking  of  what  they 
should  eat  during  the  day,  and  could  describe  a  dinner  with 
more  minuteness  than  Polybius  uses  in  describing  a  battle ; 
and  I  have  always  found  that  these  supposed  men  were 
nothing  but  children  forty  years  old,  without  any  force  or 
steadiness  of  character.  Gluttony  is  the  vice  of  men  who 
have  no  stamina.  The  soul  of  a  gourmand  has  its  seat  in 
his  palate  alone ;  formed  only  for  eating,  stupid,  incapable, 
he  is  in  his  true  place  only  at  the  table ;  his  judgment  is 
worthless  except  in  the  matter  of  dishes.  As  he  values 
these  far  more  highly  than  others  in  which  we  are  interested, 
as  well  as  he,  let  us  without  regret  leave  this  business  of  the 
palate  to  him. 

It  is  weak  precaution  to  fear  that  gluttony  may  take  root 
In  a  child  capable  of  anything  else.  As  children,  we  think 
only  of  eating  ;  but  in  youth,  we  think  of  it  no  more.  Every- 
thing tastes  good  to  us,  and  we  have  many  other  things  to 
occupy  us. 

Yet  I  would  not  use  so  low  a  motive  injudiciously,  or 
reward  a  good  action  with  a  sugar-plum.     Since  childhood  is 


112  CONCERNING  EDUCATION. 

or  should  be  altogether  made  up  of  play  and  frolic,  I  sea 
no  reason  why  exercise  purely  physical  should  not  have  a 
material  and  tangible  reward.  If  a  young  Majorcan,  seeing 
a  basket  in  the  top  of  a  tree,  brings  it  down  with  a  stone 
from  his  sling,  why  should  he  not  have  the  recompense  of  a 
good  breakfast,  to  repair  the  strength  used  in  earning  it? 

A  young  Spartan,  braving  the  risk  of  a  hundred  lashes, 
stole  into  a  kitchen,  and  carried  off  a  hve  fox-cub,  which 
concealed  under  his  coat,  scratched  and  bit  him  tiU  the  blood 
came.  To  avoid  the  disgrace  of  detection,  the  child  allowed 
the  creature  to  gnaw  his  entrails,  and  did  not  lift  an  eyelash 
or  utter  a  cry.^  "Was  it  not  just  that,  as  a  reward,  he  was 
allowed  to  devour  the  beast  that  had  done  its  best  to  devour 
him? 

/  A  good  meal  ought  never  to  be  given  as  a  reward ;  but 
why  should  it  not  sometimes  be  the  result  of  the  pains  taken 
to  secure  it?  Emile  will  not  consider  the  cake  I  put  upon  a 
stone  as  a  reward  for  running  well ;  he  only  knows  that  he 
cannot  have  the  cake  unless  he  reaches  it  before  some  other 
person  does. 

This  does  not  contradict  the  principle  before  laid  down  as 
to  simplicity  in  diet.  For  to  please  a  child's  appetite  we 
need  not  arouse  it,  but  merely  satisfy  it ;  and  this  may  be 
done  with  the  most  ordinary  things  in  the  world,  if  we  do 
not  take  pains  to  refine  his  taste.  His  continual  appetite, 
arising  from  his  rapid  growth,  is  an  unfailing  sauce,  which 
supplies  the  place  of  many  others.  With  a  little  fruit,  oi 
some  of  the  dainties  made  from  milk,  or  a  bit  of  pastry  rather 
more  of  a  rarity  than  the  every-day  bread,  and,  more  than  all, 
with  some  tact  in  bestowing,  you  may  lead  an  army  of  children 
to  the  world's  end  without  giving  them  any  taste  for  highly 
Bpiced  food,  or  running  any  risk  of  cloying  their  palate. 

1  Recorded  as  illustrating  Spartan  education. 


RESTJLT.  113 

Besides,  whatever  kind  of  diet  you  give  children,  provided 
they  are  used  only  to  simple  and  common  articles  of  food, 
let  them  eat,  run,  and  play  as  much  as  they  please,  and  you 
may  rest  assured  they  will  never  eat  too  much,  or  be  trou- 
bled with  indigestion.  But  if  you  starve  them  half  the  time, 
and  they  can  find  a  way  to  escape  your  vigilance,  they  will 
injure  themselves  with  all  their  might,  and  eat  until  they  are 
entirely  surfeited. 

Unless  we  dictate  to  our  appetite  other  rules  than  those  of 
nature,  it  will  never  be  inordinate.  Always  regulating,  pre- 
scribing, adding,  retrenching,  we  do  everything  with  scales 
in  hand.  But  the  scales  measure  our  own  whims,  and  not 
our  digestive  organs. 

To  return  to  my  illustrations ;  among  country  folk  the 
larder  and  the  orchard  are  always  open,  and  nobody,  young 
or  old,  knows  what  indigestion  means. 

Result.    The  Pupil  at  the  Age  of  Ten  or  Twelve. 

Supposing  that  my  method  is  indeed  that  of  nature  itself, 
and  that  I  have  made  no  mistakes  in  applying  it,  I  have  now 
conducted  my  pupil  through  the  region  of  sensations  to  the 
boundaries  of  childish  reason.  The  first  step  beyond  should 
be  that  of  a  man.  But  before  beginning  this  new  career,  let 
us  for  a  moment  cast  our  eyes  over  what  we  have  just  trav- 
ersed. Every  age  and  station  in  life  has  a  perfection,  a 
maturity,  all  its  own.  We  often  hear  of  a  full-grown  man  ; 
in  contemplating  a  full-grown  child  we  shall  find  more  nov- 
elty, and  perhaps  no  less  pleasure. 

The  >  existence  of  finite  beings  is  so  barren  and  so  limited 
that  when  we  see  only  what  is,  it  never  stirs  us  to  emotion. 
Real  objects  are  adorned  by  the  creations  of  fancy,  and 
without  this  charm  yield  us  but  a  barren  gatiaf action,  ex- 


114  CONCERNING   EDUCATION. 

tending  no  farther  than  to  the  organ  that  perceives  them, 
and  the  heart  is  left  cold.  The  earth,  clad  in  the  glories  of 
autumn,  displays  a  wealth  which  the  wondering  eye  enjoys, 
but  which  arouses  no  feeling  within  us  ;  it  springs  less  from 
sentiment  than  from  reflection.  In  spring  the  landscape  is 
still  almost  bare  ;  the  forests  yield  no  shade  ;  the  verdure  is 
only  beginning  to  bud  ;  and  yet  the  heart  is  deeply  moved 
at  the  sight.  We  feel  within  us  a  new  life,  when  we  see 
nature  thus  revive ;  delightful  images  surround  us ;  the 
companions  of  pleasure,  gentle  tears,  ever  ready  to  spring  at 
the  touch  of  tender  feelings,  brim  our  eyes.  But  upon  the 
panorama  of  the  vintage  season,  animated  and  pleasant 
though  it  be,  we  have  no  tears  to  bestow.  Why  is  there  this 
difference  ?  It  is  because  imagination  joins  to  the  sight  of 
spring-time  that  of  following  seasons.  To  the  tender  buds 
the  eye  adds  the  flowers,  the  fruit,  the  shade,  sometimes 
also  the  mysteries  that  may  lie  hid  in  them.  Into  a  single 
point  of  time  our  fancy  gathers  all  the  year's  seasons  yet  to 
be,  and  sees  things  less  as  they  reaUy  will  be  than  as  it 
would  choose  to  have  them.  In  autumn,  on  the  contrary, 
there  is  nothing  but  bare  reality.  If  we  think  of  spring 
then,  the  thought  of  winter  checks  us,  and  beneath  snow 
and  hoar-frost  the  chilled  imagination  dies. 

The  charm  we  feel  in  looking  upon  a  lovely  childhood 
rather  than  upon  the  perfection  of  mature  age,  arises  from 
the  same  source.  If  the  sight  of  a  man  in  his  prime  gives 
us  like  pleasure,  it  is  when  the  memory  of  what  he  has  donft 
leads  us  to  review  his  past  life  and  bring  up  his  youngei 
days.  If  we  think  of  him  as  he  is,  or  as  he  will  be  in  old 
age,  the  idea  of  declining  nature  destroys  all  our  pleasure. 
There  can  be  none  in  seeing  a  man  rapidly  drawing  near 
the  grave  ;  the  image  of  death  is  a  blight  upon  everything. 
^=*^  But  when   I   imagine  a  child  of   ten   or  twelve,  sound, 


RESULT.  116 

vigorous,  well  developed  for  his  age,  it  gives  me  pleasure, 
whether  on  account  of  the  present  or  of  the  future.  I  see 
him  impetuous,  sprightly,  aniirated,  free  from  anxiety  or 
corroding  care,  living  wholly  in  his  own  present,  and  enjoying 
a  life  full  to  overflowing.  I  foresee  what  he  will  be  in  later 
years,  using  the  senses,  the  intellect,  the  bodily  vigor,  every 
day  unfolding  within  him.  When  I  think  of  him  as  a  child, 
he  dehghts  me ;  when  I  think  of  him  as  a  man,  he  delights 
me  still  more.  His  glowing  pulses  seem  to  warm  my  own  ; 
I  feel  his  Hfe  within  myself,  and  his  sprightUness  renews  my 
youth.  His  form,  his  bearing,  his  countenance,  manifest 
self-confidence  and  happiness.  Health  glows  in  his  face ; 
his  firm  step  is  a  sign  of  bodily  vigor.  His  complexion, 
still  delicate,  but  not  insipid,  has  in  it  no  effeminate  softness, 
for  air  and  sun  have  already  given  him  the  honorable  stamp 
of  his  sex.  His  still  rounded  muscles  are  beginning  to  show 
signs  of  growing  expressiveness.  His  eyes,  not  yet  lighted 
with  the  fire  of  feeling,  have  all  their  natural  serenity. 
Years  of  sorrow  have  never  made  them  dim,  nor  have  his 
cheeks  been  furrowed  by  unceasing  tears.  His  quick  but 
decided  movements  show  the  sprightliness  of  his  age,  and 
his  sturdy  independence ;  they  bear  testimony  to  the  abund- 
ant physical  exercise  he  has  enjoyed.  His  bearing  is  frank 
and  open,  but  not  insolent  or  vain.  His  face,  never  glued  to 
his  books,  is  never  downcast ;  you  need  not  tell  him  to  raise 
his  head,  for  neither  fear  nor  shame  has  ever  made  it  droop,  j 
Make  room  for  him  among  you,  and  examine  him,  gentle- 
men. Question  him  with  all  confidence,  without  fear  of  his 
troubling  you  with  idle  chatter  or  impertinent  queries.  Do 
not  be  afraid  of  his  taking  up  all  your  time,  or  making  it 
impossible  for  you  to  get  rid  of  him.  You  need  not  expect 
brilliant  speeches  that  I  have  taught  him,  but  only  the  frank 
and  simple  truth  without  preparation,  ornament,  or  vanity. 


116  CONCERNING   EDUCATION. 

When  he  tells  you  what  he  has  been  thinking  or  doing,  he 
will  speak  of  the  evil  as  freely  as  of  the  good,  not  in  the 
least  embarrassed  by  its  effect  upon  those  who  hear  him. 
He  will  use  words  in  all  the  simplicity  of  their  original 
meaning. 

We  like  to  prophesy  good  of  children,  and  are  always 
sorry  when  a  stream  of  nonsense  comes  to  disappoint  hopes 
aroused  by  some  chance  repartee.  My  pupil  seldom  awakens 
such  hopes,  and  will  never  cause  such  regrets :  for  he  never 
utters  an  unnecessary  word,  or  wastes  breath  in  babble  to 
I  which  he  knows  nobody  will  listen,  fif  his  ideas  have  a 
limited  range,  they  are  nevertheless  clear.  If  he  knows 
nothing  by  heart,  he  knows  a  great  deal  from  experience. 
If  he  does  not  read  ordinary  books  so  well  as  other  children, 
he  reads  the  book  of  nature  far  better.  His  mind  is  in  his 
brain,  and  not  at  his  tongue's  end.  He  has  less  memory 
than  judgment.  He  can  speak  only  one  language,  but  he 
understands  what  he  says  :  and  if  he  does  not  say  it  as  well 
as  another,  he  can  do  things  far  better  than  they  can. 

He  does  not  know  the  meaning  of   custom   or  routine. 
What  he   did   yesterday  does   not  in   any  wise   affect  his 
actions  of  to-day.      He  never  follows  a  rigid  formula,  or 
gives  way  in  the  least  to  authority  or  to  example.     Every- 
thing he  does  and  says  is  after  the  natural  fashion  of  his 
age.      Expect   of   him,    therefore,  no  formal    speeches    or 
studied  manners,  but  always  the  faithful  expression  of  his 
own  ideas,  and  a  conduct  arising  from  his  own  inchnations. 
\  t    You  will  find  he  has  a  few  moral  ideas  in  relation  to  his 
I  own  concerns,  but  in  regard  to  men  in  general,  none  at  all. 
i\  Of  what  use  would  these  last  be  to  him,  since  a  child  is  not 
I  yet  an  active  member  of  society  ?     Speak  to  him  of  liberty, 
of  property,  even  of  things  done  by  common  consent,  and  he 
may  understand  you.     He  knows  why  his  own  things  belong 


BBSULT.  117 

to  him  and  those  of  another  person  do  not,  and  beyond  this 
he  knows  nothing.  Speak  to  him  of  duty  and  obedience, 
and  he  will  not  know  what  you  mean.  Command  him  to  do 
a  thing,  and  he  will  not  understand  you.  But  tell  him  that 
if  he  will  do  you  such  and  such  a  favor,  you  will  do  the  same 
for  him  whenever  you  can,  and  he  will  readily  oblige  you  y'' 
for  he  likes  nothing  better  than  to  increase  his  power,  and  to 
lay  you  under  obligations  he  knows  to  be  inviolable.  Per- 
haps, too,  he  enjoys  being  recognized  as  somebody  and 
accounted  worth  something.  But  if  this  last  be  his  motive, 
he  has  already  left  the  path  of  nature,  and  you  have  not 
effectually  closed  the  approaches  to  vanity. 

'^  If  he  needs  help,  he  will  ask  it  of  the  very  first  person  he     / 
meets,  be  he  monarch  or  man-servant ;  to  him  one  man  is  as  ^' 
good  as  another. 

By  his  manner  of  asking,  you  can  see  that  he  feels  you  do 
not  owe  him  anything ;  he  knows  that  what  he  asks  is  really 
a  favor  to  him,  which  humanity  will  induce  you  to  grant. 
His  expressions  are  simple  and  laconic.  His  voice,  his  look, 
his  gesture,  are  those  of  one  equally  accustomed  to  consent 
or  to  refusal.  They  show  neither  the  cringing  submission  of 
a  slave,  nor  the  imperious  tone  of  a  master ;  but  xnodest  con- 
fidence in  his  fellow-creatures,  and  the  noble  and  touching 
gentleness  of  one  who  is  free,  but  sensitive  and  feeble,  ask- 
ing aid  of  another,  also  free,  but  powerful  and  kind.  If  you 
do  what  he  asks,  he  does  not  thank  you,  but  feels  that  he 
has  laid  himself  under  obligation.  If  you  refuse,  he  will  not 
complain  or  insist ;  he  knows  it  would  be  of  no  use.  He  will 
not  say,  "  I  was  refused,"  but  "  It  was  impossible."  And, 
as  has  been  already  said,  we  do  not  often  rebel  against  an 
acknowledged  necessity. 

Leave  him  at  liberty  and  by  himself,  and  without  saying  a 
word,  wateh  what  he  does,  and  how  he  does  it.     Knowing 


118  CONCERNING  EDUCATION. 

perfectly  well  that  he  is  free,  he  will  do  nothing  from  mere 
thoughtlessness,  or  just  to  show  that  he  can  do  it ;  for  is  he 
not  aware  that  he  is  always  his  own  master?  He  is  alert, 
nimble,  and  active  ;  his  movements  have  all  the  agihty  of  his 
years ;  but  you  will  not  see  one  that  has  not  some  definite 
aim.  No  matter  what  he  may  wish  to  do,  he  will  never  un- 
dertake what  he  cannot  do,  for  he  has  tested  his  own  strength, 
and  knows  exactly  what  it  is.  The  means  he  uses  are  always "> 
adapted  to  the  end  sought,  and  he  rarely  does  anything  with-  ( 
out  being  assured  he  will  succeed  in  it.  His  eye  will  be 
attentive  and  critical,  and  he  will  not  ask  foolish  questions 
about  everything  he  sees.  Before  making  any  inquiries  he 
will  tire  himself  trying  to  find  a  thing  out  for  himself.  If  he 
meets  with  unexpected  difficulties,  he  will  be  less  disturbed 
by  them  than  another  child,  and  less  frightened  if  there  is 
danger.  As  nothing  has  been  done  to  arouse  his  still  dor- 
mant imagination,  he  sees  things  only  as  they  are,  estimates 
danger  accurately,  and  is  always  self-possessed.  He  has  so 
often  had  to  give  way  to  necessity  that  he  no  longer  rebels 
against  it.  Having  borne  its  yoke  ever  since  he  was  born, 
he  is  accustomed  to  it,  and  is  ready  for  whatever  may  come. 

Work  and  play  are  alike  to  him ;  his  plays  are  his  occupa- 
tions, and  he  sees  no  difference  between  the  two.  He  throws 
himself  into  everything  with  charming  earnestness  and  free- 
dom, which  shows  the  bent  of  his  mind  and  the  range  of  his 
knowledge.  Who  does  not  enjoy  seeing  a  pretty  child  of 
this  age,  with  his  bright  expression  of  serene  content,  and 
laughing,  open  countenance,  playing  at  the  most  serious 
things,  or  deeply  occupied  with  the  most  frivolous  amuse- 
ments ?  He  has  reached  the  maturity  of  childhood,  has  lived 
a  child's  life,  not  gaining  perfection  at  the  cost  of  his  happi- 
ness, but  developing  the  one  by  means  of  the  other. 

While  acquiring  all  the  reasoning  power  possible  to  his 


BESULT.  119 

age,  he  has  been  as  happy  and  as  free  as  his  nature  allowed. 
If  the  fatal  scythe  is  to  cut  down  in  him  the  flower  of  our 
hopes,  we  shall  not  be  obliged  to  lament  at  the  same  time  his 
life  and  his  death.  Our  grief  will  not  be  embittered  by  the 
recollection  of  the  sorrows  we  have  made  him  feel.  We 
shall  be  able  to  say,  "  At  least,  he  enjoyed  his  childhood  ;  we 
robbed  him  of  nothing  that  nature  gave  him."| 

,  In  regard  to  this  early  education,  the  chief  difficulty  is, 
that  only  far-seeing  men  can  understand  it,  and  that  a  child 
so  carefully  educated  seems  to  an  ordinary  observer  only  a 
young  scapegrace. 

A  tutor  usually  considers  his  own  interests  rather  than 
those  of  his  pupil.  He  devotes  himself  to  proving  that  he 
loses  no  time  and  earns  his  salary.  He  teaches  the  child 
such  accomplishments  as  can  be  readily  exhibited  when  re- 
quired, without  regard  to  their  usefulness  or  worthlessness, 
so  long  as  they  are  showy.  Without  selecting  or  discerning, 
he  charges  the  child's  memory  with  a  vast  amount  of  rubbish. 
When  the  child  is  to  be  examined,  the  tutor  makes  him  dis- 
play his  wares  ;  and,  after  thus  giving  satisfaction,  folds  up 
his  pack  again,  and  goes  his  way. 

My  pupil  is  not  so  rich  ;  he  has  no  pack  at  all  to  display  ; 
he  has  nothing  but  himself.  Now  a  child,  like  a  man,  can- 
Inot  be  seen  all  at  once.  What  observer  can  at  the  first 
»lance  seize  upon  the  child's  peculiar  traits  ?  Such  observers 
[there  are,  but  they  are  uncommon ;  and  among  a  hundred 
Ithousand  fathers  you  wili  not  find  one  such. 


Book  Thied. 


\ 


The  third  book  has  to  do  with  the  youth  as  he  is  between  tha 
h^s  of  twelve  and  fifteen.    At  this  time  his  strength  is  proportion- 
ately greatest,  and  this  is  the  most  important  period  in  his  life.    It 
I  is  the  time  for  labor  and  study ;  not  indeed  for  studies  of  all  kinds, 
but  for  those  whose  necessity  the  student  himself  feels.    The  prin- 
ciple that  ought  to  guide  him  now  is  that  of  utility.    All  the  master's 
talent  consists  in  leading  him  to  discover  what  is  really  useful  to 
\j5iim.    Language  and  history  offer  him  little  that  is  interesting.    He 
I  applies  himself  to  studying  natural  phenomena,  because  they  arouse 
I  his  curiosity  and  afford  him  means  of  overcoming  his  difficulties. 
He  makes  his  own  instruments,  and  invents  what  apparatus  he 
needs. 

He  does  not  depend  upon  another  to  direct  him,  but  follows 
where  his  own  good  sense  points  the  way.  Robinson  Crusoe  on 
his  island  is  his  ideal,  and  this  book  furnishes  the  reading  best 
suited  to  his  age.  He  should  have  some  manual  occupation,  as 
much  on  account  of  the  uncertain  future  as  for  the  sake  of  satisfy- 
ing his  own  constant  activity. 

Side  by  side  with  the  body  the  mind  is  developed  by  a  taste  for 
reflection,  and  is  finally  prepared  for  studies  of  a  higher  order. 
With  this  period  childhood  ends  and  youth  begins. 


The  Age  of  Study. 

ALTHOUGH  up  to  the  beginning  of  youth  life  is,  on  the 
whole,  a  period  of  weakness,  there  is  a  time  during  this 
earlier  age  when  our  strength  increases  beyond  what  our  wants 
require,  and  the  growing  animal,  still  absolutely  weak,  becomes 
relatively  strong.  His  wants  being  as  yet  partly  undeveloped, 
bis  present  strength  is  more  than  sufficient  to  provide  for  those 


122  CONCERNING  EDUCATION. 

of  the  present.  As  a  man,  he  would  be  very  weak ;  as  n 
child,  he  is  very  strong. 

Whence  arises  this  weakness  of  ours  but  from  the  inequal- 
ity between  our  desires  and  the  strength  we  have  for  fulfill, 
ing  them?  Our  passions  weaken  us,  because  the  gratification 
of  them  requires  more  than  our  natural  strength. 

If  we  have  fewer  desires,  we  are  so  much  the  stronger. 
Whoever  can  do  more  than  his  wishes  demand  has  strength 
to  spare ;  he  is  strong  indeed.  Of  this,  the  third  stage  of 
childhood,  I  have  now  to  speak.  I  still  call  it  childhood  for 
want  of  a  better  term  to  express  the  idea ;  for  this  age,  not 
yet  that  of  puberty,  approaches  youth. 

At  the  age  of  twelve  or  thirteen  the  child's  physical  strength 
develops  much  faster  than  his  wants.  He  braves  without 
inconvenience  the  inclemency  of  climate  and  seasons,  scarcely 
feeling  it  at  all.  Natural  heat  serves  him  instead  of  clothing, 
appetite  instead  of  sauce.  When  he  is  drowsy,  he  lies  down 
on  the  ground  and  falls  asleep.  Thus  he  finds  around  him 
everything  he  needs ;  not  governed  by  caprices,  his  desires 
extend  no  farther  than  his  own  arms  can  reach.  Not  only  is 
he  sufficient  for  himself,  but,  at  this  one  time  in  all  his  life, 
he  has  more  strength  than  he  really  requires. 

What  then  shall  he  do  with  this  superabundance  of  mental 
and  physical  strength,  which  he  will  hereafter  need,  but 
endeavor  to  employ  it  in  ways  which  will  at  some  time  be  of 
use  to  him,  and  thus  throw  this  surplus  vitality  forward  into 
the  future  ?  The  robust  child  shall  make  provision  for  his 
weaker  manhood.  But  he  will  not  garner  it  in  barns,  or  lay 
it  up  in  coffers  that  can  be  plundered.  To  be  real  owner  of 
this  treasure,  he  must  store  it  up  in  his  arms,  in  his  brain,  in 
*4dmself.  The  present,  then,  is  the  time  to  labor,  to  receive 
(Uistruction,  and  to  study  ;  nature  so  ordains,  not  I. 

Human  intelligence  has  its  limits.     We  can  neither  knoTf 


THE  AGE  OF  STUDY.  128 

everything,  nor  be  thoroughly  acquainted  with  the  little  that 
nther  men  know.  Since  the  reverse  of  every  false  proposi- 
^on  is  a  truth,  the  number  of  truths,  like  the  number  of 
errors,  is  inexhaustible.  We  have  to  select  what  is  to  be 
taught  as  well  as  the  time  for  learning  it.  Of  the  kinds  of 
knowledge  within  our  power  some  are  false,  some  useless, 
some  serve  only  to  foster  pride.  Only  the  few  that  really 
conduce  to  our  well-being  are  worthy  of  study  by  a  wise  man, 
or  by  a  youth  intended  to  be  a  wise  man.  The  question  is,  J 
not  what  may  be  known,  but  wlmt  will  be  of  the  most  usel' 
when  it  is  known.  From  these  few  we  must  again  deduct 
such  as  require  a  ripeness  of  understanding  and  a  knowledge 
of  human  relations  which  a  child  cannot  possibly  acquire ; 
such  as,  though  true  in  themselves,  incline  an  inexperienced 
mind  to  judge  wrongly  of  other  things. 

This  reduces  us  to  a  circle  small  indeed  in  relation  to 
existing  things,  but  immense  when  we  consider  the  capacity 
of  the  child's  mind.  How  daring  was  the  hand  that  first j^en- 
tured  to  lift-tiae  veil  of  ^ar^ness  from  ouFEuman  understand- 
ing !  What  abysses,  due  to  our  unwise  learning,  ^^awn  around 
the  unfortunate  youth !  Tremble,  you  who  are  to  conduct 
him  by  these  perilous  ways,  and  to  lift  for  him  the  sacred 
veil  of  nature.  Be  sure  of  your  own  brain  and  of  his,  lest 
either,  or  perhaps  both,  grow  dizzy  at  the  sight.  Beware  of 
the  glamour  of  falsehood  and  of  the  intoxicating  fumes  of 
pride.  Always  bear  in  mind  that  ignorance  has  never  been 
harmful,  that  error  alone  is  fatal,  and  that  our  errors  arise, 
jiot  from  what  we  do  not  know,  but  from  what  we  think  we 
do  know.^  ^ — 

1  This  might  he  carried  too  far,  and  is  to  he  admitted  with  some  reser- 
vations. Ignorance  is  never  alone  ;  its  companions  are  always  error  and 
presumption.  No  one  is  so  certain  that  he  knows,  as  he  who  knows 
nothing  ;  and  prejudice  of  all  kinds  is  the  form  in  which  our  ignorance 
fe  clothed. 


124  CONCERNING  EDUCATION. 

The  Incentive  of  Curiosity. 

The  same  instinct  animates  all  the  different  faculties  o! 
man.  To  the  activity  of  the  body,  striving  to  develop  itself, 
succeeds  the  activity  of  the  mind,  endeavoring  to  instruct 
itself.  Children  are  at  first  only  restless ;  afterwards  they 
are  inquisitive.  Their  curiosity,  rightly  trained,  is  the  in- 
centive of  the  age  we  are  now  considering.  We  must  always 
distinguish  natural  incUnations  from  those  that  have  their 
source  in  opinion. 

There  is  a  thirst  for  knowledge  which  is  founded  only 
upon  a  desire  to  be  thought  learned,  and  another,  springing 
from  our  natural  curiosity  concerning  anything  which  nearly 
or  remotely  interests  us.  Our  desire  for  happiness  is  inborn  \ 
and  as  it  can  never  be  fully  satisfied,  we  are  always  seeking 
ways  to  increase  what  we  have.  This  first  principle  of 
curiosity  is  natural  to  the  heart  of  man,  but  is  developed 
only  in  proportion  to  our  passions  and  to  our  advance  in 
knowledge.  Call  your  pupil's  attention  to  the  phenomena  of 
nature,  and  you  will  soon  render  him  inquisitive.  But  if 
you  would  keep  this  curiosity  alive,  do  not  be  in  haste  to 

f  satisfy  it.  Ask  him  questions  that  he  can  comprehend,  and 
let  him  solve  them.  Let  him  know  a  thing  because  he  has 
found  it  out  for  himself,  and  not  because  you  have  told  him 
}  of  it.  Let  him  not  learn  science,  but  discover  it  for  himself. 
if  once  you  substitute  authority  for  reason,  he  will  not 
reason  any  more  ;  he  will  only  be  the  sport  of  other  people's 
opinions. 

When  you  are  ready  to  teach  this  child  geography,  you 
get  together  your  globes  and  your  maps  ;  and  what  machines 
they  are  !  Why,  instead  of  using  all  these  representations, 
do  you  not  begin  by  showing  him  the  object  itself,  so  as  to 
let  him  know  what  you  are  talking  of? 


THE  INCENTIVE  OF  CURIOSITY.  125 

On  some  beautiful  evening  take  the  child  to  walk  with  you, 
hi  a  place  suitable  for  your  purpose,  where  in  the  unob- 
structed horizon  the  setting  sun  can  be  plainly  seen.  Take 
a  careful  observation  of  all  the  objects  marking  the  spot  at 
which  it  goes  down.  When  you  go  for  an  airing  next  day, 
return  to  this  same  place  before  the  sun  rises.  You  can  see 
it  announce  itself  by  arrows  of  fire.  The  brightness  in- 
creases ;  the  east  seems  all  aflame ;  from  its  glow  you 
anticipate  long  beforehand  the  coming  of  day.  Every 
moment  you  imagine  you  see  it.  At  last  it  really  does 
appear,  a  brilliant  point  which  rises  like  a  flash  of  lightning, 
and  instantly  fills  all  space.  The  veil  of  shadows  is  cast 
down  and  disappears.  We  know  our  dwelling-place  once 
more,  and  find  it  more  beautiful  than  ever.  The  verdure 
has  taken  on  fresh  vigor  during  the  night ;  it  is  revealed 
with  its  brilliant  net-work  of  dew-drops,  reflecting  light  and 
color  to  the  eye,  in  the  first  golden  rays  of  the  new-bom 
day.  The-itili  choir  of  birds,  none  silent,  salute  in  concert 
the  Father  of  life.  Their  wurbling,  still  faint  with  the^ 
languor  of  a  peaceful  awakening^JsjaQw  more  lingering  and 
sweet  than  at  other  hours  of  the_day.  All  this  fills  the 
senses  with  a  charm  and  freshness  which  seems  to  touch  our 
inmost  soul.  No  one  can  resist  this  enchanting  hour,  or 
behold  with  indifference  a  spectacle  so  grand,  so  beautiful, 
so  full  of  all  delight. 

Carried  away  by  such  a  sight,  the  teacher  is  eager  to 
impart  to  the  child  his  own  enthusiasm,  and  thinks  to  arouse 
it  by  calling  attention  to  what  he  himself  feels.  What  folly ! 
The  drama  of  nature  lives  only  in  the  heart ;  to  see  it,  one 
must  feel  it.  The  child  sees  the  objects,  but  not  the  rela- 
tions that  bind  them  together  ;  he  can  make  nothing  of  their 
harmony.  The  complex  and  momentary  impression  of  all 
these  sensations  requires  an  experience  he  has  never  gamdd« 


126  CONCERNING  EDUCATION. 

and  feelings  he  has  never  known.  If  he  has  never  crossed 
the  desert  and  felt  its  burning  sands  scorch  his  feet,  the 
stifling  reflection  of  the  sun  from  its  rocks  oppress  him,  how 
can  he  fully  enjoy  the  coolness  of  a  beautiful  morning? 
How  can  the  perfume  of  flowers,  the  cooling  vapor  of  the 
dew,  the  sinking  of  his  footstep  in  the  soft  and  pleasant  turf, 
enchant  his  senses  ?  How  can  the  singing  of  birds  delight 
him,  while  the  accents  of  love  and  pleasure  are  yet  unknown  ? 
How  can  he  see  with  transport  the  rise  of  so  beautiful  a  day, 
unless  imagination  can  paint  all  the  transports  with  which  it 
may  be  filled?  And  lastly,  how  can  he  be  moved  by  the 
beautiful  panorama  of  nature,  if  he  does  not  know  by  whose 
v  itender  care  it  has  been  adorned  ? 

\     ^  Do  not  talk  to  the  child  about  things  he  cannot  under- 

I  stand.      Let  him  hear  from  you  no  descriptions,  no  elo- 

^IJtience,  no  figurative  language,  no  poetry.     Sentiment  and 

taste  are  just  now  out  of  the  question.      Continue  to  be 

clear,   unaffected,  and    dispassionate ;    the   time    for   using 

another  language  will  come  only  too  soon. 

Educated  in  the  spirit  of  our  principles,  accustomed  to 
look  for  resources  within  himself,  and  to  have  recourse  to 
others  only  when  he  finds  himself  really  helpless,  he  will 
examine  every  new  object  for  a  long  time  without  saying  a 
word.  He  is  thoughtful,  and  not  disposed  to  ask  questions. 
Be  satisfied,  therefore,  with  presenting  objects  at  appropriate 
times  and  in  appropriate  ways.  When  you  see  his  curiosity 
fairly  at  work,  ask  him  some  laconic  question  which  will 
suggest  its  own  answer. 

On  this  occasion,  having  watched  the  sunrise  from  begin- 
ning to  end  with  him,  having  made  him  notice  the  mountains 
and  other  neighboring  objects  on  the  same  side,  and  allowed 
him  to  talk  about  them  just  as  he  pleases,  be  silent  for  a  few 
minutes,  as  if  in  deep  thought,  and  then  say  to  him,  "I 


THE  INCENTIVE  OF  CURIOSITY.  127 

think  the  sun  set  over  there,  and  now  it  has  risen  over  here. 
How  can  that  be  so  ?  "  Say  no  more  ;  if  he  asks  questions^ 
do  not  answer  them :  speak  of  something  else.  Leave  him 
to  himself,  and  he  will  be  certain  to  think  the  matter  over. 

To  give  the  child  the  habit  of  attention  and  to  impress  him 
deeply  with  any  truth  affecting  the  senses,  let  him  pass  sev- 
eral restless  days  before  he  discovers  that  truth.  If  the  one 
in  question  does  not  thus  impress  him,  you  may  make  him 
see  it  more  clearly  by  reversing  the  problem.  If  he  does  not 
know  how  the  sun  passes  from  its  setting  to  its  rising,  he  at 
least  does  know  how  it  travels  from  its  rising  to  its  setting ; 
his  eyes  alone  teach  him  this.  Explain  your  first  question 
by  the  second.  If  your  pupil  be  not  absolutely  stupid,  the 
analogy  is  so  plain  that  he  cannot  escape  it.  This  is  his 
first  lesson  in  cosmography. 

As  we  pass  slowly  from  one  sensible  idea  to  another, 
familiarize  ourselves  for  a  long  time  with  each  before  con- 
sidering the  next,  and  do  not  force  our  pupil's  attention ; 
it  will  be  a  long  way  from  this  point  to  a  knowledge  of  the 
sun's  course  and  of  the  shape  of  the  earth.  But  as  all  the 
apparent  motions  of  the  heavenly  bodies  are  upon  the  same 
principle,  and  the  first  observation  prepares  the  way  for  aU 
the  rest,  less  effort,  if  more  time,  is  required  to  pass  from 
the  daily  rotation  of  the  earth  to  the  calculation  of  eclipses 
than  to  understand  clearly  the  phenomena  of  day  and  night. 

Since  the  sun  (apparently)  revolves  about  the  earth,  it 
describes  a  circle,  and  we  already  know  that  every  circle 
must  have  a  centre.  This  centre,  being  in  the  heart  of  the 
earth,  cannot  be  seen ;  but  we  may  mark  upon  the  surface 
two  opposite  points  that  correspond  to  it.  A  rod  passing 
through  these  three  points,  and  extending  from  one  side  of 
the  heavens  to  the  other,  shall  be  the  axis  of  the  earth,  and 
of  the  sun's  apparent  daily  motion.     A  spherical  top,  turning 


128  CONCERNING  EDUCATION. 

on  its  point,  shall  represent  the  heavens  revolving  on  their 
axis  ;  the  two  extremities  of  the  top  are  the  two  poles.  The 
child  will  be  interested  in  knowing  one  of  them,  which  I  will 
show  him  near  the  tail  of  Ursa  Minor. 

This  will  serve  to  amuse  us  for  one  night.  By  degrees  we 
shall  grow  familiar  with  the  stars,  and  this  will  awaken  a 
desire  to  know  the  planets  and  to  watch  the  constellations. 

We  have  seen  the  sun  rise  at  midsummer ;  we  will  also 
watch  its  rising  at  Christmas  or  some  other  fine  day  in 
winter.  For  be  it  known  that  we  are  not  at  all  idle,  and 
that  we  make  a  joke  of  braving  the  cold.  I  take  care  to 
make  this  second  observation  in  the  same  place  as  the  first: 
and  after  some  conversation  to  pave  the  way  for  it.  One  or 
the  other  of  us  will  be  sure  to  exclaim,  ' '  How  queer  that  is  ! 
the  sun  does  not  rise  where  it  used  to  rise  !  Here  are  our 
old  landmarks,  and  now  it  is  rising  over  yonder.  Then  there 
must  be  one  east  for  summer,  and  another  for  winter." 
Now,  young  teacher,  your  way  is  plain.  These  examples 
ought  to  suflSce  you  for  teaching  the  sphere  very  understand- 
ingly,  by  taking  the  world  for  your  globe,  and  the  real  sun 
instead  of  your  artificial  sun. 


Things  Rather  than  their  Signs. 

f     In  general,  never  show  the  representation  of  a  thing  unless 
■  it  be  impossible  to  show  the  thing  itself ;   for  the  sign  ab- 
sorbs the  child's  attention,  and  makes  him  lose  sight  of  the 
thing  signified. 

The  armillary  sphere  ^  seems  to  me  poorly  designed  and  in 
bad  proportion.     Its  confused  circles  and  odd  figures,  giving 

iThe  armillary  sphere  is  a  group  of  pasteboard  or  copper  circles,  to 
illustrate  the  orbits  of  the  planets,  and  their  position  in  relation  to  the 
•arth,  which  is  represented  by  a  small  wooden  ball. 


THINGS  RATHER   THAN  THEIR  SIGNS.  129 

it  the  look  of  a  conjurer's  apparatus,  are  enough  to  frighten 
a  child.  The  earth  is  too  small ;  the  circles  are  too  many 
and  too  large.  Some  of  them,  the  colures,^  for  instance,  are 
entirely  useless.  Every  circle  is  larger  than  the  earth.  The 
pasteboard  gives  them  an  appearance  of  solidity  which 
creates  the  mistaken  impression  that  they  are  circular  masses 
which  really  exist.  When  you  tell  the  child  that  these  are 
imaginary  circles,  he  understands  neither  what  he  sees  nor 
what  you  mean. 

Shall  we  never  learn  to  put  ourselves  in  the  child's  place  ? 
We  do  not  enter  into  his  thoughts,  but  suppose  them  exactly 
like  our  own.  Constantly  following  our  own  method  of 
reasoning,  we  cram  his  mind  not  only  with  a  concatenation 
of  truths,  but  also  with  extravagant  notions  and  errors. 

In  the  study  of  the  sciences  it  is  an  open  question  whether 
we  ought  to  use  synthesis  or  analysis.  It  is  not  always  nec- 
essary to  choose  either.  In  the  same  process  of  investigation 
we  can  sometimes  both  resolve  and  compound,  and  while  the 
child  thinks  he  is  only  analyzing,  we  can  direct  him  by  the 
methods  teachers  usually  employ.  By  thus  using  both  we 
make  each  prove  the  other.  Starting  at  the  same  moment 
from  two  opposite  points  and  never  imagining  that  one  road 
connects  them,  he  will  be  agreeably  surprised  to  find  that 
what  he  supposed  to  be  two  paths  finally  meet  as  one. 

1  would,  for  example,  take  geography  at  these  two  ex- 
tri^mes,  and  add  to  the  study  of  the  earth's  motions  the 
measurement  of  its  parts,  beginning  with  our  own  dweUing- 
piace.  While  the  child,  studying  the  sphere,  is  transported 
into  the  heavens,  bring  him  back  to  the  measurement  of  the 
earth,  and  first  show  him  his  own  home. 

The  two  starting-points  in  his  geography  shall  be  the  town 

2  The  imaginary  circles  traced  on  the  celestial  sphere,  and  figured  in  the 
armillary  sphere  by  metallic  circles,  are  called  colures. 


130  CONCERNING  EDUCATION. 

in  which  he  lives,  and  his  father's  house  in  the  country 
Afterward  shall  come  the  places  lying  between  these  two; 
then  the  neighboring  rivers  ;  lastly,  the  aspect  of  the  sun,  and 
the  manner  of  finding  out  where  the  east  is.  This  last  is  the 
point  of  union.  Let  him  make  himself  a  map  of  all  these 
details ;  a  very  simple  map,  including  at  first  only  two 
objects,  then  by  degrees  the  others,  as  he  learns  their  dis- 
tance and  position.  You  see  now  what  an  advantage  we 
have  gained  beforehand,  by  making  his  eyes  serve  him 
instead  of  a  compass. 

Even  with  this  it  may  be  necessary  to  direct  him  a  little^ 
but  very  little,  and  without  appearing  to  do  so  at  all.  When 
he  makes  mistakes,  let  him  make  them  ;  do  not  correct  them. 
Wait  in  silence  until  he  can  see  and  correct  them  himself. 
Or,  at  most,  take  a  good  opportunity  to  set  in  motion  some  • 
thing  which  will  direct  his  attention  to  them.  If  he  were 
"lever  to  make  mistakes,  he  could  not  learn  half  so  well. 
Besides,  the  important  thing  is,  not  that  he  should  know  the 
exact  topography  of  the  country,  but  that  he  should  learn 
how  to  find  it  out  by  himself.  It  matters  little  whether  he 
has  maps  in  his  mind  or  not,  so  that  he  understands  what 
they  represent,  and  has  a  clear  idea  of  how  they  are  made. 

Mark  the  difference  between  the  learning  of  your  pupils 
and  the  ignorance  of  mine.  They  know  all  about  maps,  and 
he  can  make  them.  Our  maps  will  serve  as  new  decora- 
tions for  our  room. 


Imparting  a  Taste  for  Science. 

Beak  in  mind  always  that  the  life  and  soul  of  my  system 
is,  not  to  teach  the  child  many  things,  but  to  allow  only  cor* 
rect  and  clear  ideas  to  enter  his  mind.  I  do  not  care  if  he 
rs  nothing,  so  long  as  he  is  not  mistaken.     To  guard 


IMPARTING  A  TASTE  FOR  SCIENCE.  131 

him  from  errors  he  might  learn,  I  furnish  his  jxnnd.  mfh^ 
truths  only.  Reason  and  judgment  enter  slowly  ;  prejudices 
fcrowdln  ;  and  he  must  be  preserved  from  these  last.  Yet  if 
you  consider  science  in  itself,  you  launch  upon  an  unfathom- 
able and  boundless  sea,  full  of  unavoidable  dangers.  When 
I  see  a  man  carried  away  by  his  love  for  knowledge,  hasten- 
ing from  one  alluring  science  to  another,  without  knowing 
where  to  stop,  I  think  I  see  a  child  gathering  shells  upon 
the  seashore.  At  first  he  loads  himself  with  them;  then, 
tempted  by  others,  he  throws  these  away,  and  gathers  more. 
V  At  last,  weighed  down  by  so  many,  and  no  longer  knowing 
which  to  choose,  he  ends  by  throwing  all  away,  and  return- 
ing empty-handed. 

In  our  early  years  time  passed  slowly ;  we  endeavored  to 
lose  it,  for  fear  of  misusing  it.     The  case  is  reversed ;  now 
we  have  not  time  enough  for  doing  all  that  we  find  useful. 
Bear  in  mind  that  the  passions  are  drawing  nearer,  and  that 
as  soon  as  they  knock  at  the  door^  your  pupil  will  have  eyes 
and  ears  for  them  alone.     The  tranquil   period   of   intelli- 
gence is  so  brief,  and  has  so  many  other  necessary  uses,  that 
only  folly  imagines  it  long   enough  to  make   the   child  a 
\  I  learned  man.     The  thing  is,  not  to  teach  him  knowledge,  S 
jbut  to  give  him  a  love  for  it,  and  a  good  method  of  acquiring 
^iit  when  this  love  has  grown  stronger.     Certainly  this  is  a 
fundamental  principle  in  all  good  education. 

Now,  also,  is  the  time  to  accustom  him  gradually  to  con- 
centrate attention  on  a  single  object.  \  This  attention,  how- 
ever, should  never  result  from  constraint,  but  from  desire 
and  pleasure.  Be  careful  that  it  shall  not  grow  irksome,  or 
approach  the  point  of  weariness.  Leave  any  subject  just 
before  he  grows  tired  of  it ;  for  the  learning  it  matters  less 
to  him  than  the  never  being  obliged  to  learn  anything 
against  his  will.     If  he  himself  questions  you,  answer  so  as 


132  CONCERNING  EDUCATION. 

to  keep  alive  his  curiosity,  not  to  satisfy  it  altogether. 
Above  all,  when  you  find  that  he  makes  inquiries,  not  for  the 
sake  of  learning  something,  but  to  talk  at  randon  and  annoy 
you  with  silly  questions,  pause  at  once,  assured  that  he  cares 
nothing  about  the  matter,  but  only  to  occupy  your  time  with 
himself.  Less  regard  should  be  paid  to  what  he  says  than 
to  the  motive  which  leads  him  to  speak.  This  caution,  here- 
tofore unnecessary,  is  of  the  utmost  importance  as  soon  as 
a  child  begins  to  reason. 

There  is  a  chain  of  general  truths  by  which  all  sciences 
are  linked  to  common  principles  and  successively  unfolded. 
This  chain  is  the  method  of  philosophers,  with  which,  for 
the  present,  we  have  nothing  to  do.  There  is  another, 
altogether  different,  which  shows  each  object  as  the  cause  of 
another,  and  always  points  out  the  one  following.  This 
order,  which,  by  a  perpetual  curiosity,  keeps  alive  the  atten- 
tion demanded  by  all,  is  the  one  followed  by  most  men,  and 
of  all  others  necessary  with  children.  When,  in  making  our 
maps,  we  found  out  the  place  of  the  east,  we  were  obliged 
to  draw  meridians.  The  two  points  of  intersection  be- 
tween the  equal  shadows  of  night  and  morning  furnish  an 
excellent  meridian  for  an  astronomer  thirteen  years  old. 
But  these  meridians  disappear ;  it  takes  time  to  draw  them  ; 
they  oblige  us  to  work  always  in  the  same  place  *  so  much 
care,  so  much  annoyance,  will  tire  him  out  at  last.  We 
have  seen  and  provided  for  this  beforehand. 

I  have  again  begun  upon  tedious  and  minute  details. 
Readers,  I  hear  your  murmurs,  and  disregard  them.  I  will 
not  sacrifice  to  your  impatience  the  most  useful  part  of  this 
book.  Do  what  you  please  with  my  tediousness,  as  I  have 
done  as  I  pleased  in  regard  to  your  complaints. 


THE  JUGGLER.  133 

The  Juggler. 

For  some  time  my  pupil  and  I  had  observed  that  different 
bodies,  such  as  amber,  glass,  and  wax,  when  rubbed,  attract 
itraws,  and  that  others  do  not  attract  them.  By  accident  we 
discovered  one  that  has  a  virtue  more  extraordinary  still,  — 
that  of  attracting  at  a  distance,  and  without  being  rubbed, 
iron  filings  and  other  bits  of  iron.  This  peculiarity  amused 
us  for  some  time  before  we  saw  any  use  in  it.  At  last  we 
found  out  that  it  may  be  communicated  to  iron  itself,  when 
magnetized  to  a  certain  degree.  One  day  we  went  to  a  fair, 
where  a  juggler,  with  a  piece  of  bread,  attracted  a  duck 
made  of  wax,  and  floating  on  a  bowl  of  water.  Much  sur- 
prised, we  did  not  however  say,  "  He  is  a  conjurer,"  for  we 
knew  nothing  about  conjurers.  Continually  struck  by  effects 
whose  causes  we  do  not  know,  we  were  not  in  haste  to 
decide  the  matter,  and  remained  in  ignorance  until  we  found 
a  way  out  of  it. 

When  we  reached  home  we  had  talked  so  much  of  the 
duck  at  the  fair  that  we  thought  we  would  endeavor  to  copy 
it.  Taking  a  perfect  needle,  well  magnetized,  we  inclosed 
it  in  white  wax,  modelled  as  well  as  we  could  do  it  into  the 
shape  of  a  duck,  so  that  the  needle  passed  entirely  through 
the  body,  and  with  its  larger  end  formed  the  duck's  bill. 
We  placed  the  duck  upon  the  water,  applied  to  the  beak 
the  handle  of  a  key,  and  saw,  with  a  delight  easy  to  imagine, 
that  our  duck  would  follow  the  key  precisely  as  the  one  at 
the  fair  had  followed  the  piece  of  bread.  We  saw  that 
some  time  or  other  we  might  observe  the  direction  in  which  the 
duck  turned  when  left  to  itself  upon  the  water.  But  absorbed 
at  that  time  by  another  object,  we  wanted  nothing  more. 

That  evening,  having  in  our  pockets  bread  prepared  for 
the  occasion,  we  returned  to  the  fair.     As  soon  as  the  mounte- 


184  CONCERNING  EDUCATION. 

bank  had  performed  his  feat,  my  little  philosopher,  scarcely 
able  to  contain  himself,  told  him  that  the  thing  was  not  hard 
to  do,  and  that  he  could  do  it  himself.  He  was  taken  at  his 
word.  Instantly  he  took  from  his  pocket  the  bread  in  which 
he  had  hidden  the  bit  of  iron.  Approaching  the  table  his 
heart  beat  fast ;  almost  tremblingly,  he  presented  the  bread. 
The  duck  came  toward  it  and  followed  it ;  the  child  shouted 
and  danced  for  joy.  At  the  clapping  of  hands,  and  the 
acclamations  of  all  present,  his  head  swam,  and  he  was  almost 
beside  himself.  The  juggler  was  astonished,  but  embraced 
and  congratulated  him,  begging  that  we  would  honor  him 
again  by  our  presence  on  the  following  day,  adding  that  he 
would  take  care  to  have  a  larger  company  present  to  applaud 
our  skill.  My  little  naturalist,  filled  with  pride,  began  to 
prattle ;  but  I  silenced  him,  and  led  him  away  loaded  with 
praises.  The  child  counted  the  minutes  until  the  morrow 
with  impatience  that  made  me  smile.  He  invited  everybody 
he  met ;  gladly  would  he  have  had  all  mankind  as  witnesses 
of  his  triumph.  He  could  scarcely  wait  for  the  hour  agreed 
upon,  and,  long  before  it  came,  flew  to  the  place  appointed. 
The  hall  was  already  full,  and  on  entering,  his  little  heart 
beat  fast.  Other  feats  were  to  come  first ;  the  juggler  outdid 
himself,  and  there  were  some  really  wonderful  perform- 
ances. The  child  paid  no  attention  to  these.  His  excite- 
ment had  thrown  him  into  a  perspiration ;  he  was  almost 
breathless,  and  fingered  the  bread  in  his  pocket  with  a  hand 
trembling  with  impatience. 

At  last  his  turn  came,  and  the  master  pompously  announced 
the  fact.  Rather  bashfully  the  boy  drew  near  and  held  forth 
his  bread.  Alas  for  the  changes  in  human  aflairs !  The 
duck,  yesterday  so  tame,  had  grown  wild.  Instead  of  pre- 
senting its  bill,  it  turned  about  and  swam  away,  avoiding  the 
bread  and  the  hand  which  presented  it,  as  carefully  as  It  had 


THE  JUGGLER.  135 

before  followed  them.  After  many  fruitless  attempts,  each 
received  with  derision,  the  child  complained  that  a  trick  was 
played  on  him,  and  defied  the  juggler  to  attract  the  duck. 

The  man,  without  a  word,  took  a  piece  of  bread  and  pre- 
sented it  to  the  duck,  which  instantly  followed  it,  and  came 
towards  his  hand.  The  child  took  the  same  bit  of  bread ; 
but  far  from  having  better  success,  he  saw  the  duck  make 
sport  of  him  by  whirling  round  and  round  as  it  swam  about 
the  edge  of  the  basin.  At  last  he  retired  in  great  confusion, 
no  longer  daring  to  encounter  the  hisses  which  followed. 

Then  the  juggler  took  the  bit  of  bread  the  child  had 
brought,  and  succeeded  as  well  with  it  as  with  his  own.  In 
the  presence  of  the  entire  company  he  drew  out  the  needle, 
making  another  joke  at  our  expense  ;  then,  with  the  bread 
thus  disarmed,  he  attracted  the  duck  as  before.  He  did  the 
same  thing  with  a  piece  of  bread  which  a  third  person  cut  off 
in  the  presence  of  all ;  again,  with  his  glove,  and  with  the 
tip  of  his  finger.  At  last,  going  to  the  middle  of  the  room, 
he  declared  in  the  emphatic  tone  peculiar  to  his  sort,  that  the 
duck  would  obey  his  voice  quite  as  well  as  his  gesture.  He 
spoke,  and  the  duck  obeyed  him ;  commanded  it  to  go  to  the 
right,  and  it  went  to  the  right ;  to  return,  and  it  did  so ;  to 
turn,  and  it  turned  itself  about.  Each  movement  was  as 
prompt  as  the  command.  The  redoubled  applause  was  a  re- 
peated aflront  to  us.  We  stole  away  unmolested,  and  shut 
ourselves  up  in  our  room,  without  proclaiming  our  success 
far  and  wide  as  we  had  meant  to  do. 

There  was  a  knock  at  our  door  next  morning  ;  I  opened  it, 
and  there  stood  the  mountebank,  who  modestly  complained  of 
our  conduct.  What  had  he  done  to  us  that  we  should  try  to 
throw  discredit  on  his  performances  and  take  away  his  liveli- 
hood ?  What  is  so  wonderful  in  the  art  of  attracting  a  wax 
duck,  that  the  honor  should  be  worth  the  price  of  an  honest 


136  CONCERNING  EDUCATION. 

man's  living?  ''Faith,  gentlemen,  if  I  had  any  other  waj 
of  earning  my  bread,  I  should  boast  very  little  of  this  way. 
You  may  well  believe  that  a  man  who  has  spent  his  life  in 
practising  this  pitiful  trade  understands  it  much  better  than 
you,  who  devote  only  a  few  minutes  to  it.  If  I  did  not  show 
you  my  best  performances  the  first  time,  it  was  because  a  man 
ought  not  to  be  such  a  fool  as  to  parade  everything  he  knows. 
I  always  take  care  to  keep  my  best  things  for  a  fit  occasion ; 
and  I  have  others,  too,  to  rebuke  young  and  thoughtless  peo- 
ple. Besides,  gentlemen,  I  am  going  to  teach  you,  in  the 
goodness  of  my  heart,  the  secret  which  puzzled  you  so 
much,  begging  that  you  will  not  abuse  your  knowledge  of 
it  to  injure  me,  and  that  another  time  you  will  use  more 
discretion." 

Then  he  showed  us  his  apparatus,  and  we  saw,  to  our  sur- 
prise, that  it  consisted  only  of  a  powerful  magnet  moved  by 
a  child  concealed  beneath  the  table.  The  man  put  up  his 
machine  again ;  and  after  thanking  him  and  making  due 
apologies,  we  offered  him  a  present.  He  refused,  saying, 
"No,  gentlemen,  I  am  not  so  well  pleased  with  you  as  to 
accept  presents  from  you.  You  cannot  help  being  undei 
an  obligation  to  me,  and  that  is  revenge  enough.  But,  you 
see,  generosity  is  to  be  found  in  every  station  in  life ;  I  take 
pay  for  my  performances,  not  for  my  lessons." 

As  he  was  going  out,  he  reprimanded  me  pointedly  and 
aloud.  "I  willingly  pardon  this  child,"  said  he;  "he  has 
offended  only  through  ignorance.  But  you,  sir,  must  have 
known  the  nature  of  his  fault ;  why  did  you  allow  him  to 
commit  such  a  fault?  Since  you  live  together,  you,  who 
are  older,  ought  to  have  taken  the  trouble  of  advising  him ; 
the  authority  of  your  experience  should  have  guided  him. 
WTien  he  is  old  enough  to  reproach  you  for  his  childish  errorsi 


THE  JUGGLER.  137 

he  will  certainly  blame  you  for  those  of  which  you  did  not 
warn  him."  i 

He  went  away,  leaving  us  greatly  abashed.  I  took  upon 
myself  the  blame  of  my  easy  compliance,  and  promised  the 
child  that,  another  time,  I  would  sacrifice  it  to  his  interest, 
and  warn  him  of  his  faults  before  they  were  committed. 
For  a  time  was  coming  when  our  relations  would  be  changed, 
and  the  severity  of  the  tutor  must  succeed  to  the  complai- 
sance of  an  equal.  This  change  should  be  gradual ;  every- 
thing must  be  foreseen,  and  that  long  beforehand. 

The  following  day  we  returned  to  the  fair,  to  see  once 
more  the  trick  whose  secret  we  had  learned.  We  approached 
our  juggling  Socrates  with  deep  respect,  hardly  venturing  to 
look  at  him.  He  overwhelmed  us  with  civilities,  and  seated 
us  with  a  marked  attention  which  added  to  our  humiliation. 
He  performed  his  tricks  as  usual,  but  took  pains  to  amuse 
himself  for  a  long  time  with  the  duck  trick,  often  looking  at 
us  with  a  rather  defiant  air.  We  understood  it  perfectly,  and 
did  not  breathe  a  syllable.  If  my  pupil  had  even  dared  to 
open  his  mouth,  he  would  have  deserved  to  be  annihilated. 

All  the  details  of  this  illustration  are  far  more  important 
than  they  appear.  How  many  lessons  are  here  combined  in 
one  !  How  many  mortifying  effects  does  the  first  feeling  of 
vanity  bring  upon  us  !  Young  teachers,  watch  carefully  its 
first  manifestation.  If  you  can  thus  turn  it  into  humiliation 
and  disgrace,  be  assured  that  a  second  lesson  will  not  soon  be 
necessary. 

"  What  an  amount  of  preparation  !  "  you  wiU  say.  True  ; 
and  all  to  make  us  a  compass  to  use  instead  of  a  meridian 
line ! 

1  Rousseau  here  informs  his  readers  that  even  these  reproaches  are  ex- 
pected, he  having  dictated  them  beforehand  to  the  mountebank ;  all  this 
Bcene  has  been  arranged  to  deceive  the  child.  What  a  refinement  of  artific« 
bi  this  passionate  lover  of  the  natural! 


N 


188  CONCERNING  EDUCATION. 

Having  learned  that  a  magnet  acts  through  other  bodies, 
we  were  all  impatience  until  we  had  made  an  apparatus  like 
the  one  we  had  seen,  —  a  hollow  table -to^D  with  a  very  shallow 
basin  adjusted  upon  it  and  fiUed  with  water,  a  duck  rather 
more  carefully  made,  and  so  on.  Watching  this  apparatus 
attentively  and  often,  we  finally  observed  that  the  duck,  when 
at  rest,  nearly  always  turned  in  the  same  direction.  Follow- 
ing up  the  experiment  by  examining  this  direction,  we  found 
it  to  be  from  south  to  north.  Nothing  more  was  necessary  ; 
our  compass  was  invented,  or  might  as  well  have  been.  We 
had  begun  to  study  physics. 

Experimental  Physics. 

The  earth  has  different  climates,  and  these  have  different 
temperatures.  As  we  approach  the  poles  the  variation  of 
seasons  is  more  perceptible,  —  all  bodies  contract  with  cold 
and  expand  with  heat.  This  effect  is  more  readily  measured 
in  liquids,  and  is  particularly  noticeable  in  spirituous  liquors. 
This  fact  suggested  the  idea  of  the  thermometer.  The  wind 
strikes  our  faces  ;  air  is  therefore  a  body,  a  fluid  ;  we  feel  it 
though  we  cannot  see  it.  Turn  a  glass  vessel  upside  down  in 
water,  and  the  water  will  not  fill  it  unless  you  leave  a  vent 
for  the  air ;  therefore  air  is  capable  of  resistance.  Sink 
the  glass  lower,  and  the  water  rises  in  the  air-fiUed  region  of 
the  glass,  although  it  does  not  entirely  fill  that  space.  Air 
is  therefore  to  some  extent  compressible.  A  ball  filled  with 
compressed  air  bounds  much  better  than  when  filled  with 
anything  else :  air  is  therefore  elastic.  When  lying  at  fuU 
length  in  the  bath,  raise  the  arm  horizontally  out  of  the 
*water,  and  you  feel  it  burdened  by  a  great  weight :  air  is  there- 
fore heavy.  Put  air  in  equiUbrium  with  other  bodies,  and 
you  can  measure  its  weight.     From  these  observations  were 


EXPERIMENTAL  PHYSICS.  139 

constructed  the  barometer,  the  siphon,  the  air-gun,  and  the 
air-pump.  All  the  laws  of  statics  and  hydrostatics  were  dis- 
covered by  experiments  as  simple  as  these.  I  would  not 
have  my  pupil  study  them  in  a  laboratory  of  experimental 
physics.  I  dislike  all  that  array  of  machines  and  instruments. 
The  parade  of  science  is  fatal  to  science  itself.  All  those 
machines  frighten  the  child ;  or  else  their  singular  forma 
divide  and  distract  the  attention  he  ought  to  give  to  their 
effects. 

I  would  make  all  our  own  machines,  and  not  begin  by  mak- 
ing the  instrument  before  the  experiment  has  been  tried. 
But  after  apparently  lighting  by  chance  on  the  experiment, 
I  should  by  degrees  invent  instruments  for  verifying  it. 
These  instruments  should  not  be  so  perfect  and  exact  as  our 
ideas  of  what  they  should  be  and  of  the  operations  resulting 
from  them. 

For  the  first  lesson  in  statics,  instead  of  using  balances,  I 
put  a  stick  across  the  back  of  a  chair,  and  when  evenly  bal- 
anced, measure  its  two  portions.  I  add  weights  to  each  part, 
sometimes  equal,  sometimes  unequal.  Pushing  it  to  or  fro  as 
may  be  necessary,  I  finally  discover  that  equilibrium  results 
from  a  reciprocal  proportion  between  the  amount  of  weight 
and  the  length  of  the  levers.  Thus  my  little  student  of  phys- 
ics can  rectify  balances  without  having  ever  seen  them. 

When  we  thus  learn  by  ourselves  instead  of  learning  from 
others,  our  ideas  are  far  more  definite  and  clear.  Besides,  if 
our  reason  is  not  accustomed  to  slavish  submission  to  au- 
thority, this  discovering  relations,  linking  one  idea  to  another, 
9,nd  inventing  apparatus,  renders  us  much  more  ingenious. 
If,  instead,  we  take  everything  just  as  it  is  given  to  us,  we 
allow  our  minds  to  sink  down  into  indifference  ;  just  as  a  man 
who  always  lets  his  servants  dress  him  and  wait  on  him,  and 
his  horses  carry  him  about,  loses  finally  not  only  the  vigoi 


140  CONCERNING  EDUCATION. 

but  even  the  use  of  his  limbs.  Boileau  boasted  that  he  had 
taught  Racine  to  rhyme  with  difficulty.  There  are  many  ex- 
cellent labor-saving  methods  for  studying  science  ;  but  we  are 
in  sore  need  of  one  to  teach  us  how  to  learn  them  with  more 
effort  of  our  own. 

The  most  manifest  value  of  these  slow  and  laborious  re- 
searches is,  that  amid  speculative  studies  they  maintain  the 
activity  and  suppleness  of  the  body,  by  training  the  hands  to 
labor,  and  creating  habits  useful  to  any  man.  So  many  in- 
struments are  invented  to  aid  in  our  experiments  and  to  sup- 
plement the  action  of  our  senses,  that  we  neglect  to  use  the 
senses  themselves.  If  the  graphometer  measures  the  size  of 
an  angle  for  us,  we  need  not  estimate  it  ourselves.  The  eye 
which  measured  distances  with  precision  intrusts  this  work  to 
the  chain ;  the  steelyard  saves  me  the  trouble  of  measuring 
weights  by  the  hand.  The  more  ingenious  our  apparatus,  the 
more  clumsy  and  awkward  do  our  organs  become.  If  we 
surround  ourselves  with  instruments,  we  shall  no  longer  find 
them  within  ourselves. 

But  when,  in  making  the  apparatus,  we  employ  the  skill 
and  sagacity  required  in^doin^  without  them,  we  do'not  lose, 
but  gain.  By  adding  art  to  nature,  we  become  more  in- 
genious and  no  less  skilful.  If,  instead  of  keeping  a  child 
at  his  books,  I  keep  him  busy  in  a  workshop,  his  hands  labor 
to  his  mind's  advantage  :  while  he  regards  himself  only  as  a 
workman  he  is  growing  into  a  philosopher.  This  kind  of 
exercise  has  other  uses,  of  which  I  will  speak  hereafter;  and 
we  shall  see  how  philosophic  amusements  prepare  us  for  the 
true  functions  of  manhood. 

I  have  already  remarked  that  purely  speculative  studies  are 
rarely  adapted  to  children,  even  when  approaching  the  period 
of  youth ;  but  without  making  them  enter  very  deeply  into 
systematic  physics,  let  all  the  experiments  be  connected  by 


NOTHING  TO  BE  TAKEN  UPON  AUTHORITY.     141 

some  kind  of  dependence  by  which  the  child  can  arrange  them 
in  his  mind  and  recall  them  at  need.  For  we  cannot  with- 
out something  of  this  sort  retain  isolated  facts  or  even  rea- 
sonings long  in  memory. 

In  investigating  the  laws  of  nature,  always  begin  with  the 
most  common  and  most  easily  observed  phenomena,  and  ac- 
custom your  pupil  not  to  consider  these  phenomena  as  reasons, 
but  as  facts.  Taking  a  stone,  I  pretend  to  lay  it  upon  the 
air ;  opening  my  hand,  the  stone  falls.  Looking  at  fimile, 
who  is  watching  my  motions,  I  say  to  him,  "Why  did  the 
stone  fall?" 

No  child  will  hesitate  in  answering  such  a  question,  not 
even  £mile,  unless  I  have  taken  great  care  that  he  shall  not 
know  how.  Any  child  will  say  that  the  stone  falls  because 
it  is  heavy.  ' '  And  what  does  heavy  mean  ?  "  "  Whatever 
falls  is  heavy."  Here  my  little  philosopher  is  really  at  a 
stand.  Whether  this  first  lesson  in  experimental  physics 
aids  him  in  understanding  that  subject  or  not,  it  will  always 
be  a  practical  lesson. 

Nothing  to  be  Taken  upon  Authority.    Learning"  from 
the  Pupil's  own  Necessities. 

As  the  child's  understanding  matures,  other  important  con- 
siderations demand  that  we  choose  his  occupations  with  more 
care.  As  soon  as  he  understands  himself  and  all  that  relates 
to  him  well  enough  and  broadly  enough  to  discern  what  is  to 
his  advantage  and  what  is  becoming  in  him,  he  can  appreciate 
the  difference  between  work  and  play,  and  to  regard  the  one 
solely  as  relaxation  from  the  other.  Objects  really  useful 
may  then  be  included  among  his  studies,  and  he  will  pay 
more  attention  to  them  than  if  amusement  alone  were  con- 
cerned.    The  ever-present  law  of  necessity  early  teaches  us 


142  CONCERNING  EDUCATION. 

to  do  what  we  dislike,  to  escape  evils  we  should  dislike  eren 
more.  Such  is  the  use  of  foresight  from  which,  judicious  or 
injudicious,  springs  all  the  wisdom  or  all  the  unhappiness  of 
mankind. 

We  all  long  for  happiness,  but  to  acquire  it  we  ought  first 
to  know  what  it  is.  To  the  natural  man  it  is  as  simple  as  hig 
mode  of  life  ;  it  means  health,  liberty,  and  the  necessaries  of 
life,  and  freedom  from  suffering.  The  happiness  of  man  as  a 
.  moral  being  is  another  thing,  foreign  to  the  present  question. 
I  cannot  too  often  repeat  that  only  objects  purely  physical 
can  interest  children,  especially  those  who  have  not  had  their 
vanity  aroused  and  their  nature  corrupted  by  the  poison  of 
opinion. 

When  they  provide  beforehand  for  their  own  wants,  their 
understanding  is  somewhat  developed,  and  they  are  beginning 
to  learn  the  value  of  time.  We  ought  then  by  all  means  to 
accustom  and  to  direct  them  to  its  emplojTnent  to  useful  ends, 
these  being  such  as  are  useful  at  their  age  and  readily  under- 
stood by  them.  The  subject  of  moral  order  and  the  usages 
of  society  should  not  yet  be  presented,  because  children  are 
not  in  a  condition  to  understand  such  things.  To  force  their 
attention  upon  things  which,  as  we  vaguely  tell  them,  will  be 
for  their  good,  when  they  do  not  know  what  this  good  means, 
is  foolish.  It  is  no  less  foolish  to  assure  them  that  such 
things  will  benefit  them  when  grown  ;  for  they  take  no  inter- 
est in  this  supposed  benefit,  which  they  cannot  understand. 

Let  the  child  take  nothing  for  granted  because  some  one 
says  it  is  so.  Nothing  is  good  to  him  but  what  he  feels  to 
be  good.  You  chink  it  far  sighted  to  push  him  beyond  his 
understanding  of  things,  but  you  are  mistaken.  For  the 
sake  of  arming  him  with  weapons  he  does  not  know  how  to 
use,  you  take  from  him  one  universal  among  men,  common 
sense :   you  teach  him  to  allow  himself  always  te  be  led, 


FINDING  OUT  THE  EAST.  143 


1~ 


never  to  be  more  than  a  machine  in  the  hands  of  others.  If 
yon  will  have  him  docile  while  he  is  young,  you  will  make 
him  a  credulous  dupe  when  he  is  a  man.  You  are  continue 
^y  saying  to  him,  "All  I  require  of  you  is  for  your  own 
good,  but  you  cannot  understand  it  yet.  What  does  it 
matter  to  me  whether  you  do  what  I  require  or  not?  You 
are  doing  it  entirely  for  your  own  sake."  With  such  fine 
speeches  you  are  paving  the  way  for  some  kind  of  trickster 
or  fool,  —  some  visionary  babbler  or  charlatan,  —  who  will 
entrap  him  or  persuade  him  to  adopt  his  own  folly. 

A  man  may  be  well  acquainted  with  things  whose  utility  a 
child  cannot  comprehend ;  but  is  it  right,  or  even  possible, 
for  a  child  to  learn  what  a  man  ought  to  know?  Try  to 
teach  the  child  all  that  is  useful  to  him  now,  and  you  will 
keep  him  busy  all  the  time.  Why  would  you  injure  the 
studies  suitable  to  him  at  his  age  by  giving  him  those  of  an 
age  he  may  never  attain?  ''  But,"  you  say,  ''  will  there  be 
time  for  learning  what  he  ought  to  know  when  the  time  to 
use  it  has  already  come  ? "  I  do  not  know ;  but  I  am  sure 
that  he  cannot  learn  it  sooner.  For  experience  and  feeling 
are  our  real  teachers,  and  we  never  understand  thoroughly 
what  is  best  for  us  except  from  the  circumstances  of  our 
case.  A  child  knows  that  he  will  one  day  be  a  man.  All  \ 
the  ideas  of  manhood  that  he  can  understand  give  us  op- 
portunities of  teaching  him ;  but  of  those  he  cannot  under- 
stand he  should  remain  in  absolute  ignorance.  This  entire  ;^^ 
book  is  only  a  continued  demonstration  of  this  principle  o|, 
education. 

Finding  out  the  Bast.     The  Forest  of 
Montmorency. 

I  DO   not  like  explanatory  lectures  ;    young   people  pay 
very  little  attention  to  them,  and  seldom  remember  them. 


r 


^ 


144  CONCERNING  EDUCATION. 

Things !  things !  I  cannot  repeat  often  enough  that  we 
attach  too  much  importance  to  words.  Our  babbling  educa- 
tion produces  nothing  but  babblers. 

Suppose  that  while  we  are  studying  the  course  of  the  sun, 
and  the  manner  of  finding  where  the  east  is,  ifimile  all  at 
once  interrupts  me,  to  ask,  "  What  is  the  use  of  all  this?" 
What  an  opportunity  for  a  fine  discourse !  How  many 
things  I  could  tell  him  of  in  answering  this  question,  espe- 
cially if  anybody  were  by  to  listen !  I  could  mention  the 
advantages  of  travel  and  of  commerce  ;  the  peculiar  products 
of  each  climate ;  the  manners  of  different  nations ;  the  use 
of  the  calendar ;  the  calculation  of  seasons  in  agriculture ; 
the  art  of  navigation,  and  the  manner  of  travelling  by  sea, 
following  the  true  course  without  knowing  where  we  are.  I 
might  take  up  politics,  natm-al  history,  astronomy,  even 
ethics  and  international  law,  by  way  of  giving  my  pupil  an 
exalted  idea  of  all  these  sciences,  and  a  strong  desire  to 
learn  them.  When  I  have  done,  the  boy  will  not  have 
understood  a  single  idea  out  of  all  my  pedantic  display.  He 
would  hke  to  ask  again,  "What  is  the  use  of  finding  out 
where  the  east  is?"  but  dares  not,  lest  I  might  be  angry. 
He  finds  it  more  to  his  interest  to  pretend  to  understand 
what  he  has  been  compelled  to  hear.  This  is  not  at  all  an 
uncommon  case  in  superior  education,  so-called. 

But  our  iSmile,  brought  up  more  like  a  rustic,  and  care- 
fully taught  to  think  very  slowly,  will  not  listen  to  all  this. 
He  will  run  away  at  the  first  word  he  does  not  understand, 
and  play  about  the  room,  leaving  me  to  harangue  all  by 
myself.  Let  us  find  a  simpler  way ;  this  scientific  display 
does  him  no  good. 

jWe  were  noticing  the  position  of  the  forest  north  of 
Montmorency,  when  he  interrupted  me  with  the  eager  ques- 
tion, "  What  is  the  use  of  knowing  that?  "     "  You  may  be 


FINDING  OUT  THE  EAST.  145 

right,"  said  I ;  "we  must  take  time  to  think  about  it;  and 
if  there  is  really  no  use  in  it,  we  will  not  try  it  again,  for  we 
have  enough  to  do  that  is  of  use."  We  went  at  something 
else,  and  there  was  no  more  geography  that  day. 

The  next  morning  I  proposed  a  walk  before  breakfast. 
Nothing  could  have  pleased  him  better  ;  children  are  always 
ready  to  run  about,  and  this  boy  had  sturdy  legs  of  his  own. 
We  went  into  the  forest,  and  wandered  over  the  fields ;  we 
lost  ourselves,  having  no  idea  where  we  were  ;  and  when  we 
Intended  to  go  home,  could  not  find  our  way.  Time  passed ; 
the  heat  of  the  day  came  on  ;  we  were  hungry.  In  vain  did 
we  hurry  about  from  place  to  place ;  we  found  everywhere 
nothing  but  woods,  quarries,  plains,  and  not  a  landmark 
that  we  knew.  Heated,  worn  out  with  fatigue,  and  very 
hungry,  our  running  about  only  led  us  more  and  more  astray. 
At  last  we  sat  down  to  rest  and  to  think  the  matter  over. 
]Smile,  like  any  other  child,  did  not  think  about  it ;  he  cried. 
He  did  not  know  that  we  were  near  the  gate  of  Montmorency, 
and  that  only  a  narrow  strip  of  woodland  hid  it  from  us. 
But  to  him  this  narrow  strip  of  woodland  was  a  whole  forest ; 
one  of  his  stature  would  be  lost  to  sight  among  bushes. 

After  some  moments  of  silence  I  said  to  him,  with  a 
troubled  air, 

' '  My  dear  Emile,  what  shall  we  do  to  get  away  from  here  ?  " 

jSmile.  \_In  a  profuse  perspiration,  and  crying  bitterly.']  I 
don't  know.  I'm  tired.  I'm  hungry.  I'm  thirsty.  I  can't 
do  anything. 

Jean  Jacques.  Do  you  think  I  am  better  off  than  you,  or 
that  I  would  mind  crying  too,  if  crying  would  do  for  my 
breakfast?  There  is  no  use  in  crying;  the  thing  is,  to  find 
our  way.     Let  me  see  your  watch  ;  what  time  is  it? 

i^MiLE.  It  is  twelve  o'clock,  and  I  haven't  had  my  break- 
fast. 


146  CONCERNING  EDUCATION. 

Jean  Jacques.  That  is  true.  It  is  twelve  o'clock,  and  I 
haven't  had  my  breakfast,  either. 

£mile.    Oh,  how  hungry  you  must  be  ! 

Jean  Jacques.  The  worst  of  it  is  that  my  dinner  will  not 
come  here  to  find  me.  Twelve  o'clock  ?  it  was  just  this  time 
yesterday  that  we  noticed  where  Montmorency  is.  Could  we 
see  where  it  is  just  as  well  from  this  forest? 

^MiLE.  Yes  ;  but  yesterday  we  saw  the  forest,  and  we  can- 
not see  the  town  from  this  place. 

Jean  Jacques.  That  is  a  pity.  I  wonder  if  we  could  find 
out  where  it  is  without  seeing  it? 

Emile.    Oh,  my  dear  friend ! 

Jean  Jacques.   Did  not  we  say  that  this  forest  is^ 

ifiniLE.   North  of  Montmorency. 

Jean  Jacques.   If  that  is  ti*ue,  Montmorency  must  be  — 

^MiLE.    South  of  the  forest. 

Jean  Jacques.  There  is  a  way  of  finding  out  the  north  at 
uoon. 

£mile.   Yes ;  by  the  direction  of  our  shadows. 

Jean  Jacques.   But  the  south? 

Emile.    How  can  we  find  that? 

Jean  Jacques.   The  south  is  opposite  the  north. 

fiMiLE.  That  is  true  ;  all  we  have  to  do  is  to  find  the  side 
opposite  the  shadows.  Oh,  there's  the  south!  there's  the 
south  I  Montmorency  must  surely  be  on  that  side  ;  let  us 
look  on  that  side. 

Jean  Jacques.  Perhaps  you  are  right.  Let  us  take  this 
path  through  the  forest. 

i^MiLE.  {^Clapping  his  hands,  with  a  joyful  shout,"]  Oh,  I 
gee  Montmorency  ;  there  it  is,  just  before  us,  in  plain  sight. 
X<et  us  go  to  our  breakfast,  our  dinner;  let  us  run  fast. 
A-stronomy  is  good  for  something  ! 

Observe  that  even  if  he  does  not  utter  these  last  words. 


ROBINSON  CRUSOE.  147 

tihey  will  be  in  his  mind.     It  matters  little  so  long  as  it  is 
not  I  who  utter  them.     Rest  assured  that  he  will  never  in  his 
life  forget  this  day's  lesson.     Now  if  I  had  only  made  him  ^ 
imagine  it  all  indoors,  my  lecture  would  have  been  entirely li-i 
forgotten  by  the  next  day^/We  should  teach  as  much  as}/  ^' 
possible  by  actions,  and  say  only  what  we  cannot  dq.l  f 


Robinson  Crusoe. 

In  his  legitimate  preference  for  teaching  by  the  eye  and  hand 
and  by  real  things,  and  in  his  aversion  to  the  barren  and  erroneous 
method  of  teaching  from  books  alone,  Rousseau,  constantly  carried 
away  by  the  passionate  ardor  of  his  nature,  rushes  into  an  opposite, 
extreme,  and  exclaims,  "  I  hate  books;  they  only  teach  us  to  talk] 
about  what  we  do  not  understand."    Then,  checked  in  the  full  tidel 
of  this  declamation  by  his  own  good  sense,  he  adds :  — 

Since  we  must  have  books,  there  is  one  which,  to  my  mind, 
furnishes  the  finest  of  treatises  on  education  according  to 
nature.  My  fimile  shall  read  this  book  before  any  other  ;  it 
shall  for  a  long  time  be  his  entire  library,  and  shall  always 
hold  an  honorable  place.  It  shall  be  the  text  on  which  all 
our  discussions  of  natural  science  shall  be  only  commentaries. 
It  shall  be  a  test  for  all  we  meet  during  our  progress  toward 
a  ripened  judgment,  and  so  long  as  our  taste  is  unspoiled, 
we  shall  enjoy  reading  it.  What  wonderful  book  is  this?  / 
A^ristotle?  Pliny?  Buffon?     No;  it  is  "  Robinson  Crusoe."  ^ 

The  story  of  this  man,  alone  on  his  island,  unaided  by  his 
fellow-men,  without  any  art  or  its  implements,  and  yet  pro- 
viding for  his  own  preservation  and  subsistence,  even  con- 
triving to  live  in  what  might  be  called  comfort,  is  interesting 
to  persons  of  all  ages.  It  may  be  made  delightful  to  chil- 
dren in  a  thousand  ways.  Thus  we  make  the  desert  island, 
which  I  used  at  the  outset  for  a  comparison,  a  reality. 


148  CONCERNING  EDUCATION. 

I  This  condition  is  not,  I  grant,  that  of  man  in  society ;  and 
to  all  appearance  ^mile  will  never  occupy  it ;  but  from  it  he 
ought  to  judge  of  all  others.  The  surest  way  to  rise  above 
prejudice,  and  to  judge  of  things  in  then*  true  relations,  is  to 
put  ourselves  in  the  place  of  an  isolated  man,  and  decide  as 
he  must  concerning  their  real  utility. 

/Disencumbered  of  its  less  profitable  portions,  this  romance 
from  its  beginning,  the  shipwreck  of  Crusoe  on  the  island,  to 
its  end,  the  arrival  of  the  vessel  which  takes  him  away,  will 
yield  amusement  and  instruction  to  fimile  during  the  perioiS 
now  in  question.  I  would  have  him  completely  carried  away 
by  it,  continually  thinking  of  Crusoe's  fort,  his  goats,  and 
his  plantations.  I  would  have  him  learn,  not  from  books, 
but  from  real  things,  all  he  would  need  to  know  under  the 
3ame  circumstances.  He  should  be  encouraged  to  play 
Robinson  Crusoe  ;  to  imagine  himself  clad  in  skins,  wearing 
a  great  cap  and  sword,  and  all  the  array  of  that  grotesque 
figure,  down  to  the  umbrella,  of  wlfich  he  would  have  no 
need  If  he  happens  to  be  in  want  qf  anything,  I  hope  he 
will  contrive  something  to  supply  its  place.  Let  hiVn  look 
carefully  into  all  that  his  hero  did,  and  decide  whether  any  of 
it  was  unnecessary,  or  might  have  been  done  in  a  better  way. 
Let  him  notice  Crusoe's  mistakes  and  avoid  them  under  Uke 
circumstances.  He  will  very  likely  plan  for  himself  sur- 
roundings like  Crusoe's,  —  a  real  castle  in  the  air,  natural  at 
his  happy  age  when  we  think  ourselves  rich  if  we  are  free 
and  have  the  necessaries  Npf  life.  How  useful  this  hobby 
might  be  made  if  some  man  of  sense  would  only  suggest  it 
and  turn  it  to  good  account !  The  child,  eager  to  build  a 
storehouse  for  his  island,  would  be  more  desirous  to  learn 
than  his  master  would  be  to  teach  him.  He  would  be  anx- 
ious to  know  everything  he  could  make  use  of,  and  nothing 
besides.     You  would  not  need  to  guide,  but  to  restrain  him. I 


JUDGING  FROM  APPEARANCES.  149 

Here  Rousseau  insists  upon  giving  a  child  some  trade,  no  mattei 
l^hat  his  station  in  life  may  be ;  and  in  1762  he  uttered  these  pro- 
phetic words,  remarkable  indeed,  when  we  call  to  mind  the  disorders 
at  the  close  of  that  century ;  — 

I  You  trust  to  the  present  condition  of  society,  without  re- 

flecting that  it  is  subject  to  unavoidable  revolutions,  and  that 
you  can  neither  foresee  nor  prevent  what  is  to  affect  the  fate 
of  your  own  children.     The  great  are  brought  low,  the  poor 
are  made  rich,  the  king  becomes  a  subject.     Are  the  blows 
of  fate  so  uncommon  that  you  can  expect  to  escape  them? 
We  are  approaching  a  crisis,  the  age  of  rovolutions.     Who  r 
can  tell  what  will  become-jiL-yo«*^en?    All  that  man  has     //] 
done  man  may  destroy.  ..JS'o  characters  but  those  stamped    /  \ 
by  nature  are  ineffaceable ;  and  natm'e  did  not  make  princes, 
or  rich  men,  or  nobles. 

This  advice  was  followed.  In  the  highest  grades  of  society  it 
became  the  fashion  to  learn  some  handicraft  It  is  well  known  that 
Louis  XVI.  was  proud  of  his  skill  as  a  locksmith.  Among  the  exiles 
of  a  later  period,  many  owed  their  living  to  the  trade  tfiey  had  thus 
learned. 

To  return  to  ]femile :   Rousseau  selects  for  him  the  trade  of  a  •' 
joiner,  and  goes  so  far  as  to  employ  him  and  his  tutor  in  that  kind 
of  labor  for  one  or  more  days  of  every  week  under  a  master  who 
pays  them  actual  wages  for  their  work. 

Judging  from  Appearances.    The  Broken  Stick. 

If  I  have  thus  far  made  myself  understood,  you  may  see 
how,  with  regular  physical  exercise  and  manual  labor,  I  am 
at  the  same  time  giving  my  pupil  a  taste  for  reflection  and 
meditation.  This  will  counterbalance  the  indolence  which 
might  result  from  his  indifference  to  other  men  and  from  the 
[dormant  state  of  his  passions.  He  mjist  work  like  a  peasant 
and  think  like  a  philosopher,  or  he  will  be  as  idle  as  a  savage 


160  CONCERNING  EDUCATION. 

The  great  secret  of  education  is  to  make  physical  and  menta* 
exercises  serve  as  relaxation  for  each  other.  At  first  our 
^  pupil  had  nothing  but  sensations,  and  now  he  has  ideas. 
\  Then  he  only  perceived,  but  now  he  judges.  For  from  com- 
parison of  many  successive  or  simultaneous  sensations, 
with  the  judgments  based  on  them,  arises  a  kind  of  mixed  or 
complex  sensation  which  I  call  an  idea. 

The  different  manner  in  which  ideas  are  formed  gives  each 
mind  its  peculiar  character.  A  mind  is  solid  if  it  shape  its 
ideas  according  to  the  true  relations  of  things  ;  superficial,  if 
content  with  their  apparent  relations  ;  accurate,  if  it  behold 
things  as  they  really  are  ;  unsound,  if  it  understand  them  in- 
correctly ;  disordered,  if  it  fabricate  imaginary  relations, 
neither  apparent  nor  real;  imbecile,  if  it  do  not  compare 
ideas  at  all.  Greater  or  less  mental  power  in  different  men 
consists  in  their  greater  or  less  readiness  in  comparing  idea* 
and  discovering  their  relations. 

From  simple  as  well  as  complex  sensations,  we  form  judg- 
ments which  I  will  call  simple  ideas.  In  a  sensation  the 
judgment  is  wholly  passive,  only  affirming  that  we  feel  what 
we  feel.  In  a  preception  or  idea,  the  judgment  is  active  ;  it 
brings  together,  compares,  and  determines  relations  not  de- 
termined by  the  senses.  This  is  the  only  point  of  difference, 
but  it  is  important.  Nature  never  deceives  us ;  it  is  always 
we  who  deceive  ourselves. 

I  see  a  child  eight  years  old  helped  to  some  frozen  custard. 
Without  knowing  what  it  is,  he  puts  a  spoonful  in  his  mouth, 
and  feeling  the  cold  sensation,  exclaims,  "  Ah,  that  burns  !" 
He  feels  a  keen  sensation ;  he  knows  of  none  more  so  than 
heat,  and  thinks  that  is  what  he  now  feels.  He  is  of  course 
mistaken ;  the  chill  is  painful,  but  does  not  burn  him ;  and 
the  two  sensations  are  not  alike,  since,  after  encountering 
both,  we  never  mistake  one  for  the  other.    It  is  not,  there' 


JUDGING  FROM  APPEARANCES.  151 

fore,  the  sensation  which  misleads  him,  but  the  judgment 
based  on  it. 

It  is  the  same  when  any  one  sees  for  the  first  time  a  mir- 
ror or  optical  apparatus ;  or  enters  a  deep  cellar  in  mid- 
winter or  midsummer ;  or  plunges  his  hand,  either  very  warm 
or  very  cold,  into  tepid  water ;  or  rolls  a  little  ball  between 
two  of  his  fingers  held  crosswise.  If  he  is  satisfied  with 
describing  what  he  perceives  or  feels,  keeping  his  judgment 
in  abeyance,  he  cannot  be  mistaken.  But  when  he  decides 
upon  appearances,  his  judgment  is  active  ;  it  compares,  and 
infers  relations  it  does  not  perceive ;  and  it  may  then  be 
mistaken.  He  will  need  experience  to  prevent  or  correct 
such  mistakes.  Show  your  pupil  clouds  passing  over  the 
moon  at  night,  and  he  will  think  that  the  moon  is  moving  in 
an  opposite  direction,  and  that  the  clouds  are  at  rest.  He 
will  the  more  readily  infer  that  this  is  the  case,  because  he 
usually  sees  small  objects,  not  large  ones,  in  motion,  and 
because  the  clouds  seem  to  him  larger  than  the  moon,  of 
whose  distance  he  has  no  idea.  When  from  a  moving  boat 
he  sees  the  shore  at  a  little  distance,  he  makes  the  contrary 
mistake  of  thinking  that  the  earth  moves.  For,  unconscious 
of  his  own  motion,  the  boat,  the  water,  and  the  entire 
horizon  seem  to  him  one  immovable  whole  of  which  the 
moving  shore  is  only  one  part. 

The  first  time  a  child  sees  a  stick  half  immersed  in  water, 
it  seems  to  be  broken.  The  sensation  is  a  true  one,  and 
would  be,  even  if  we  did  not  know  the  reason  for  this 
appearance.  If  therefore  you  ask  him  what  he  sees,  he 
answers  truly,  "A  broken  stick,"  because  he  is  fully  con- 
scious of  the  sensation  of  a  broken  stick.  But  when,  de- 
ceived by  his  judgment,  he  goes  farther,  and  after  saying 
that  he  sees  a  broken  stick,  he  says  again  that  the  stick 
really  is   broken,   he   says   what   is   not    true  j    and   why? 


152  CONCERNING  EDUCATION. 

Because  his  judgment  becomes  active ;  he  decides  no  longei 
from  observation,  but  from  inference,  when  he  declares  as  a 
fact  what  he  does  not  actually  perceive ;  namely,  that  touch 
would  confirm  the  judgment  based  upon  sight  alone. 
y'  The  best  way  of  learning  to  judge  correctly  is  the  one 
which  tends  to  simplify  our  experience,  and  enables  us  to 
make  no  mistakes  even  when  we  dispense  with  experience 
altogether.  It  follows  from  this  that  after  having  long  veri- 
fied the  testimony  of  one  sense  by  that  of  another,  we  must 
further  learn  to  verify  the  testimony  of  each  sense  by  itself 
without  appeal  to  any  other.  Then  each  sensation  at  once 
becomes  an  idea,  and  an  idea  in  accordance  with  the  truth. 
With  such  acquisitions  I  have  endeavored  to  store  this  third 
period  of  human  life. 

To  follow  this  plan  requires  a  patience  and  a  circumspec- 
tion of  which  few  teachers  are  capable,  and  without  which 
a  pupil  will  never  learn  to  judge  correctly.  For  example : 
if,  when  he  is  misled  by  the  appearance  of  a  broken  stick, 
you  endeavor  to  show  him  his  mistake  by  taking  the  stick 
quickly  out  of  the  water,  you  may  perhaps  undeceive  him, 
but  what  will  you  teach  him  ?  Nothing  he  might  not  have 
learned  for  himself.  You  ought  not  thus  to  teach  him  one 
detached  truth,  instead  of  showing  him  how  he  may  always 
discover  for  himself  any  truth.  If  you  really  mean  to  teach 
him,  do  not  at  once  undeceive  him.  Let  Emile  and  myself 
serve  3'ou  for  example. 

In  the  first  place,  any  child  educated  in  the  ordinary  way 
would,  to  the  second  of  the  two  questions  above  mentioned, 
answer,  "  Of  course  the  stick  is  broken."     I  doubt  whether 
C    fimile  would  give  this  answer.     Seeing  no   need  of   being 
',   learned  or  of  appearing  learned,  he  never  judges  hastily,  but 
24)nly  from  evidence.     Knowing  how  easily  appearances  de- 
ceive us,  as  in   the   case   of   perspective,  he   is  far   from 


JUDGING   FROM  APPEAEANCES.  153 

finding  the  evidence  in  the  present  case  sufficient.  Besides, 
knowing  from  experience  that  my  most  trivial  question 
always  has  an  object  which  he  does  not  at  once  discover,  he 
is  not  in  the  habit  of  giving  heedless  answers.  On  the  con- 
trary, he  is  on  his  guard  and  attentive ;  he  looks  into  the 
matter  very  carefully  before  repl3"ing.  He  never  gives  me 
an  answer  with  which  he  is  not  himself  satisfied,  and  he  is 
not  easily  satisfied.  Moreover,  he  and  I  do  not  pride  our- 
selves on  knowing  facts  exactly,  but  only  on  making  few 
mistakes.  We  should  be  much  more  disconcerted  if  we 
found  ourselves  satisfied  with  an  insufficient  reason  than  if 
we  had  discovered  none  at  all.  The  confession,  "  I  do  not* 
know,"  suits  us  both  so  well,  and  we  repeat  it  so  often,  that 
it  costs  neither  of  us  anything.  But  whether  for  this  once 
he  is  careless,  or  avoids  the  difficulty  by  a  convenient  "  I 
do  not  know,"  my  answer  is  the  same  :  "  Let  us  see  ;  let  us 
find  out." 

The  stick,  half-way  in  the  water,  is  fixed  in  a  vertical 
position.  To  find  out  whether  it  is  broken,  as  it  appears  to 
be,  how  much  we  must  do  before  we  take  it  out  of  the  water, 
or  even  touch  it!  First,  we  go  entirely  round  it,  and 
observe  that  the  fracture  goes  around  with  us.  It  is  our 
eye  alone,  then,  that  changes  it ;  and  a  glance  cannot  move 
things  from  place  to  place. 

Secondly,  we  look  directly  down  the  stick,  from  the  end 
outside  of  the  water ;  then  the  stick  is  no  longer  bent, 
because  the  end  next  our  eye  exactly  hides  the  other  end 
from  us.     Has  our  eye  straightened  the  stick  ? 

Thirdly,  we  stir  the  surface  of  the  water,  and  see  the  stick 
bend  itself  into  several  curves,  move  in  a  zig-zag  direction, 
and  follow  the  undulations  of  the  water.  Has  the  motion 
we  gave  the  water  been  enough  thus  to  break,  to  soften,  and 
to  melt  the  stick? 


154  CONCERNING  EDUCATION. 

Fourth,  we  draw  off  the  water  and  see  the  stick  straighten 

itself  as  fast  as  the  water  is  lowered.     Is  not  this  more  than 

enough  to  illustrate  the  fact  and  to  find  out  the  refraction ; 

r->It  is  not  then  true  that  the  eye  deceives  us,  since  by  its  aid 

N^lone  we  can  correct  the  mistakes  we  ascribe  to  it. 

Suppose  the  child  so  dull  as  not  to  understand  the  result 
of  these  experiments.  Then  we  must  call  touch  to  the  aid 
of  sight.  Instead  of  taking  the  stick  out  of  the  water,  leave 
it  there,  and  let  him  pass  his  hand  from  one  end  of  it  to  the 
other.  He  will  feel  no  angle ;  the  stick,  therefore,  is  not 
broken. 

You  wiU  tell  me  that  these  are  not  only  judgments  but 
formal  reasonings.  True  ;  but  do  you  not  see  that,  as  soon 
as  the  mind  has  attained  to  ideas,  all  judgment  is  reasoning? 
The  consciousness  of  any  sensation  is  a  proposition,  a  judg- 
ment. As  soon,  therefore,  as  we  compare  one  sensation 
with  another,  we  reason.  The  art  of  judging  and  the  art  of 
reasoning  are  precisely  the  same. 

If,  from  the  lesson  of  this  stick,  ^fimile  does  not  under- 
stand the  idea  of  refraction,  he  will  never  understand  it  at 
all.  He  shall  never  dissect  insects,  or  count  the  spots  on  the 
sun ;  he  shaU  not  even  know  what  a  microscope  or  a  tele- 
scope is. 

Your  learned  pupils  will  laugh  at  his  ignorance,  and  will 
not  be  very  far  wi'ong.  For  before  he  uses  these  instru- 
ments, I  intend  he  shall  invent  them ;  and  you  may  well 
suppose  that  this  will  not  be  soon  done. 

This  shaU  be  the  spirit  of  all  my  methods  of  teaching 
during  this  period.  If  the  child  roUs  a  bullet  between  two 
crossed  fingers,  I  will  not  let  him  look  at  it  tiU  he  is  other- 
wise convinced  that  there  is  only  one  bullet  there. 


RESULT.  155 

Result.    The  Pupil  at  the  Age  of  Fifteen. 

I  THINK  these  explanations  will  suffice  to  mark  distinctly 
the  advance  my  pupil's  mind  has  hitherto  made,  and  the 
route  by  which  he  has  advanced.  You  are  probably  alarmed 
at  the  number  of  subjects  I  have  brought  to  his  notice.  You 
are  afraid  I  will  overwhelm  his  mind  with  aU  this  knowledge. 
But  I  teach  him  rather  not  to  l^now  them  than*  to  know  them. 
I  am  showing  him  a  path  to  knowledge  not  indeed  difficult, 
but  without  limit,  slowly  measured,  long,  or  rather  endless, 
and  tedious  to  follow.  I  am  showing  him  how  to  take  the 
first  steps,  so  that  he  may  know  its  beginning,  but  allow  him 
to  go  no  farther. 

Obliged  to  learn  by  his  own  effort,  he  employs  his  own  I 
reason,  not  that  of  another.     Most  of  our  mistakes  arise  less! 
within  ourselves  than  from  others  ;  so  that  if  he  is  not  to  be 
ruled  by  opinion,  he  must  receive  nothing  upon  authority. 
Such  continual  exercise  must  invigorate  the  mind  as  labor 
and  fatigue  strengthen  the  body. 

The  mind  as  well  as  the  body  can  bear  only  what  its 
strength  will  allow.  When  the  understanding  fully  masters 
a  thing  before  intrusting  it  to  the  memory,  what  it  afterward 
draws  therefrom  is  in  reality  its  own.  But  if  instead  we  load 
the  memory  with  matters  the  understanding  has  not  mastered, 
we  run  the  risk  of  never  finding  there  anything  that  belongs 
to  it. 

Emile  has  little  knowledge,  but  it  is  really  his  own ;  he 
knows  nothing  by  halves  ;  and  the  most  important  fact  is  that 
he  does  not  now  know  things  he  will  one  day  know ;  that 
many  things  known  to  other  people  he  never  will  know ;  and 
that  there  is  an  infinity  of  things  which  neither  he  nor  any 
one  else  ever  will  know.  He  is  prepared  for  knowledge  of 
every  kind ;  not  because  he  has  so  much,  but  because   he 


156  CONCERNING  EDUCATION. 

knows  how  to  acquire  it ;  his  mind  is  open  to  it,  and,  as  Mon- 
^  taigne  says,  if  not  taught,  he  is  at  least  teachable.  I  shall  be 
satisfied  if  he  knows  how  to  find  out  the  ' '  wherefore "  of 
everything  he  knows  and  the  "  why"  of  everything  he  be- 
lieves. I  repeat  that  mj^  object  is  not  to  give  him  knowledge, 
but  to  teach  him  how  to  acquire  it  at  need ;  to  estimate  it  at 
its  true  value,  and  above  all  things,  to  love  the  truth.  By 
this  method  we  advance  slowly,  but  take  no  useless  steps,  and 
are  not  obliged  to  retrace  a  single  one. 

Emile  understands  only  the  natural  and  purely  physical 
sciences.  He  does  not  even  know  the  name  of  history,  or  the 
meaning  of  metaphysics  and  ethics.  He  knows  the  essential 
relations  between  men  and  things,  but  nothing  of  the  moral 
*\j  relations  between  man  and  man.  He  does  not  readily  gener- 
I  alize  or  conceive  of  absti'actions.  He  observes  the  qualities 
common  to  certain  bodies  without  reasoning  about  the  quali- 
ties themselves.  "With  the  aid  of  geometric  figures  and  al- 
gebraic signs,  he  knows  something  of  extension  and  quantity. 
Upon  these  figures  and  signs  his  senses  rest  their  knowledge 
of  the  abstractions  just  named.  He  makes  no  attempt  to 
learn  the  nature  of  things,  but  only  such  of  their  relations  as 
concern  himself.  He  estimates  external  things  only  by  their 
relation, to  him  ;  but  this  estimate  is  exact  and  positive,  and 
in  it  fancies  and  conventionalities  have  no  share.  He  values 
most  those  things  that  are  most  useful  to  him ;  and  never  de» 
viating  from  this  standard,  is  not  influenced  by  general 
opinion. 

Emile  is  industrious,  temperate,  patient,  steadfast,  and  full 
of  courage.  His  imagination,  never  aroused,  does  not  exag- 
gerate dangers.  He  feels  few  discomforts,  and  can  bear 
pain  with  fortitude,  because  he  has  never  learned  to  contend 
with  fate.  He  does  not  yet  know  exactly  what  death  is,  but, 
accustomed  to  yield  to  the  law  of  necessity,  he  will  die  when 


RESULT.  157 

he  must,  without  a  groan  or  a  struggle.     Nature  can  do  no 
more  at  that  moment  abhorred  by  all.     To  live  free  and  to 
have  little  to  do  with  human  affairs  is  the  best  way  of  learn ♦- 
ing  how  to  die.  ^ 

In  a  word,  ifimile  has  every  virtue  which  affects  himself.  / 
To  have  the  social  virtues  as  well,  he  only  needs  to  know  the 
relations  which  make  them  necessary ;  and  this  knowledge 
his  mind  is  ready  to  receive.  He  considers  himself  independ- 
ently of  others,  and  is  satisfied  when  others  do  not  think  of 
him  at  all.  He  exacts  uothhig  from  others,  and  never  thinks 
of  owing  anything  to  them.  He  is  alone  in  human  society, 
and  depends  solely  upon  himself.  He  has  the  best  right  of 
all  to  be  independent,  for  he  is  all  that  any  one  can  be  at  his . 
age.  He  has  no  errors  but  such  as  a  human  being  must! 
have;  no  vices  but  those 'from  which  no  one  can  warrant  him-  \ 
self  exempt.  He  has  a  sound  constitution,  active  limbs,  a 
fair  and  unprejudiced  mind,  a  heart  free  and  without  passions. 
Self-love,  the  first  and  most  natural  of  all,  has  scarcely  mani' 
fested  itself  at  all.  Without  disturbing  any  one's  peace  ot 
mind  he  has  led  a  happy,  contented  life,  as  free  as  nature 
will  allow.  Do  you  think  a  youth  who  has  thus  attained  his 
^fteenth  year  has  lost  the  years  that  have  gone  befipre  ?  J 


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